Eating Ice
It was middle of winter, for many it was just another winter but for others it meant the start of snowboarding season. I’d agree with the latter. However, in such a case, there was pressure to try something new and exciting by many peers, whom all have found this common diversion long before I have. A new thrill and hobby was anew. Just as this possible endeavor hung in the air, an opportunity to venture into an unmarked territory of physical strain came and I was up for the challenge.
Sleep came easy but as for the waking up before the crack of dawn, hit me as a bit more difficult. Looking over at the nightstand, I glanced over to the blinking clock with the bright green glowing numbers of four, zero, zero. A gnawing feeling of uncertainty began to grow as I prepared to depart. I forgot what it felt like to try something completely and utterly new. Especially seeing snow for the first time as well. However, shaking off those unsavory thoughts I reminded myself that I might actually be able snowboard. As I stepped out into the bay area forty degrees morning, it was less offending than scurrying around the car scraping off frozen stubborn morning dew, I hurried to the cluster of warmth in the car awaiting a three hour long drive to who knows what.
Hoping to catch some sleep in the car ride, I was greeted with bouncing children too excited to doze off. However, I was able to find peace and drown out the many voices in the Toyota Sienna after the sunrise. At that moment it occurred to me that many find sunsets rather romantic and beautiful, but I prefer sunrises. Although the color schemes between the two are similar they represent two different things. In my view the sunrise represents the start of a new day, a new start, a new occasion in life.
“We’re here, we’re here,” said the children as I jerked awake with their pounding fists against my body. Weary-eyed, I rubbed my eyes awake. The scenery changed completely; the roads were windy, the snow-covered mountains surrounded us entirely, and off in the distance you can see the trees encircling the mountains like ants on their feast. The car slowed to stop, but skidded and slid across the parking lot hoping to avoid any pedestrians. Finally, as the car was quite situated in its cozy spot I begun to unload. The frigid air bit my skin as I went out to change. The first intake of breath chilled my insides; it was definitely different from the forty degrees morning earlier. Then I exhaled watching it in front of me, flowing out in a puff of smoke. I quickly put on the snow gear; the double layered, insulated, ridiculously expensive waterproof pants and jacket along with 2 thermals, snapped on the goggles, and a scarf to escape the freezing air. To the left of me, a group of young men strutted around in tee shirts and held onto to their snowboards with pride and confidence. I glanced over to them and back at myself, comparing the disparity, and with a heavy sigh I waddled to the waiting resort.
The light reflected off the snow shot into my eyes. I could hardly made out what was ahead of me with the blinding snow all around. Although it was close to eight o clock the resort was bustling with people. Several early birds were already riding the slopes and innumerable amounts were lining up to pay for rentals. Hearing from others, the snow that day was “bad.” It was quite solid. I had no idea what was good or bad snow. The fact that snow was there sent me in awe. Everyone scrambled to get in line for rentals. I was in no hurry expecting the worst experience of my life. I signed up for lessons half-heartedly because I figured I would be stuck in a class full of children. Next up was the line for the snowboards and boots. Strapping on the boots was similar to ice skating skates but a lot more heavy. Tightening the strings put me out of breath. Sitting there helplessly, made me realize how out of shape I really was. The start of college has indubitably changed my physical fitness. Putting on boots already had me fatigued, but this was going to be a new start to get back in shape. Once I had successfully put on my boots, I dragged my feet across the smelly locker room to grab a snowboard. The man asked me “left footed or right footed,” I stared at him clueless. “Come again,” I replied, trying desperately to pretend to understand what he was saying, but to my dismay I detected his scoff of experience. In the end I opted for a left-footed board.
The upcoming line was littered with children of all sizes, adolescents and adults. Seeing as I was not alone in this predicament, my spirits soared. We soon separated into groups and practiced strapping on the snowboard, stopping with toes and heels. Next step was to actually go down a declining slope. As I lugged myself to the conveyor belt, I stumbled with one foot strapped onto the snowboard and the other foot balancing myself so I do not fall over. At the top, the instructor gave the signal to go. I propped myself up and before I knew it, I was sliding down. I bent my legs at the knees to get a better footing. Seconds passed and I was increasing speed, I wasn’t falling over in fact I looked pretty good. The wind rushed over me, the feeling was so exhilarating. Then, the end was nearing; I leaned forward to the right to move the snowboard to a horizontal position and I slowly stopped. For my first time, I was beaming with pride and joy.
The next occurrence probably did not go as well due to my overwhelming ego. Given with my first time down the slope was a success and athleticism I assumed I had it in the bag. The lift towards the top of hill was relaxing. I looked forward with optimism. At the top again, I went down with the same technique. What I didn’t realize before was the slope was much bigger. Halfway down the hill, my speed picked up and I panicked. I tried slowing down but the board wouldn’t budge. Filled with alarm, I threw my body to the side. I rolled around in the snow, out of breath once again. I assess the problem and tried over and over again but to no avail. I couldn’t get to the bottom of the hill without falling at least once.
Wretched with defeat, I climbed on once more at my last attempt. The optimism at that point had vanished long ago, but a lingering miracle still stayed with me. I cursed the hill going down and unfortunately the bumpy snow tipped my snowboard on the side and I flew forward. My world tipped. Before I knew it I was spinning down the slope, my goggles flew off along with my hat. My vision became a blur, all I saw was white snow flying and the occasional the blue sky. Eventually, I landed on my back. I groaned in contentment, having finally stopped. My whole body was plaster with snow. Although the temperature outside was a good thirty-four degrees, I was sweating buckets. I licked my lips tasting snow and salt then peered up ahead at the clear sky. The sun was going to set soon. The day was almost over. I lay on the snow for a solid ten minutes savoring the taste of ice. It had never tasted that sweet till that day. What was it that made ice sweet? The fact that I had tried my hardest and in the end failed to accomplish mastering snowboarding, or rather, that I gave a new experience a chance and even though I tried my utmost hardest and did not succeed, I paved a way for myself to be fearless.
