Under The Category Of "I'm Gettin' Too Old For This Sh*t"

I thought up the title for this blog while having a small cardiac infarction riding the chairlift Sat morning.
Ok, not really (the C.I.) but I felt like I was going to have one. And many thoughts were running through my mind at the time like, "Just what the HELL was I thinking??" and, "Will they let me ride this back to the bottom?"
You see, I decided that after a mere 10 or so years, that I should try skiing again. On top of that, I decided to take R with me. Now, I'm not so deluded as to think that I should be the one to teach him (my kids don't do well when I'm trying to teach them something, it seems; we ALL end up very frustrated! However, I did teach them both to ride a bike, so it's not all bad!), he had a "discover skiing" package lesson for 75 mins which seemed to do the trick just fine.
So while R was out discovering the joys of strapping fiberglass planks to your feet and trying to manoevour safely down a snow-and-ice-covered hill, I decided to brush up on my stellar skiing skills on my own.
Hence, me, riding up the chairlift and trying not to alarm the other passengers with my heavy sweating and rapid breathing.
At first, I thought maybe my fear was stemming from the fact that I wasn't sure how I was going to get back down the damn hill if my body failed to remember how to keep me from tumbling head over heels like the idiot that I am. But on reflection, I was pretty confident that I could at least master the easy hill and that I would surely remember how to snowplow if all else failed. So then why oh why was I so nervous? Glancing down I suddenly realized, that's right! I'm scared of heights! How could I have forgotten my phobia that seems to have developed and worsened over the past decade?
Shit!
Shit!
Ok, deep, calm breaths and hold on tight.
Oh, yeah, and don't look down!
After about a year five minutes we came to the top, I took a deep breath of relief and lo and behold I eased myself off the chair with grace! It seems I did remember some things after all! On to the next stage...
I managed to get down the first small hill leading to the top of the cliff face the "easy" hill they referred to as "Family". Taking another deep breath I psyched myself up.
Ok, I can do this. Just go slow. Lots of snowplowing.
And don't die.
Tears pricked my eyes; either from the cold wind, or the fact that I suddenly realized that I was going to be leaving my poor child all alone when I crashed and lost consciousness. Why oh why didn't I rent the stupid helmet?
Three year olds whooshed past me, giggling in delight and probably muttering under their breath about the old person with apparent dementia standing at the top of the hill looking lost.
Who, me?
Ok, I can do this. Just go slow. Blah, blah, blah. If they can do it, so can I.
About a third of the way down the hill, I was doing fine. I probably looked completely uncoordinated and ungainly, but I was still alive! However, my knees!
Oh, my knees how they ached! They were burning!
I don't remember this! This is a new kind of pain enjoyed while skiing. Maybe I am getting too old for this!
I was never so relieved to reach the bottom before. But like the glutton for punishment that I am, I got right back into the chairlift lineup. It was starting to all come back to me now. The thrill of conquering the hill while remaining conscious, the adrenaline rush, if you will.
By the third run I was right back to where I was (skill-wise) when I last skiied, a lifetime ago. And R loved his lesson, loved the whole experience. He has caught the skiing bug, as I did so many years ago, and wants to go again.
I think I've started an expensive obsession!
And guess what? I'm not even hurting that much, so I guess, after all, I'm NOT too old for this shit!!