My body awoke at 1:45am, 4:30am, and then finally at 5:15am. My mind awoke around 5:20am. A quick phone check for any messages that may have come through after I fell asleep in the early hours, and I see one sentence on social media, with a video, “it’s sticking.” It’s sticking! Just as I hear the other bedroom door shut, I throw my covers over and to my left, and leap out of bed. Then, quiet as a mouse, turn the knob on my door to the right, pull the door towards me, and tiptoe to the kitchen window.
Wow. The winter wonderland has returned.
Straight to the shower I go, excited to get ready for the day.
Once back in my room, teal towel wrapped around my body and my brown moccasin slippers on my feet, I surprise myself when I begin contemplating outfits that would include base layers, comfortable underwear and a sports bra. What does that have to do with anything? Well, I would only contemplate these types of wardrobe details when I am going to do something physical in the snow in the middle of my workday, like, say, for example, SNOWBOARDING. I pause, and glance down at the black duffle bag on the ground, that has my employer’s logo on it, and already has my snowboard boots inside. Suddenly, I am like the tasmanian devil, throwing on socks, layers, and filling my duffle bag with the necessary gear – navy blue and pink double boa snowboard boots, bright red and orange speckled snowboard pants, black waterproof gloves, grey MIPS helmet, and low light goggles.
My hands shake from a mixture of fear and excitement. I opt to wear less than comfortable underwear and bra, as if giving myself an out if I change my mind and decide today is not the day to have my first day back snowboarding. My sub-par, less than nutritious breakfast is not going to stop me. Neither is my truck that is covered in iced over snow. I brush, and scrap, and tug at the door handle, and still clock in for work at 7:03, snowboard in hand.
This snowboard has a tale of her own. She was a gift from my mother when I was maybe 16 or 17 years old. She came, brand new, with brand new bindings. This was gear that my family could not afford. I knew it was nothing top of the line, but I absolutely loved my set, and I still do. I have been riding the same set for my entire life, up until around mid last season when a strap on my bindings broke, and I had to change to another hammy down pair from a friend. The board is old, but still beautiful. She even got complimented just today! “Wow, it’s so shiny!” I will never get rid of this board, with her deep blue shiny exterior, and loads of love on every edge and curve. My feet were strapped into that board when I bruised my first rib, when I texted the most powerful words to a man who later fell in love with me, and also when I ran into a three pronged tree branch with my head. My feet were strapped to that board today, when I took my first lap in nine months, after one of the scariest collisions I have ever been in, and by far the most excruciating sports injury recovery of my life.
Work wise, it was not an easy day to take a ride break because I was the only one womanning the Employee Center desk, but today was a pow day, and my love’s day off, which made it feel like the right day to take my first turns. I geared up nearly an hour before I was able to finally leave and take my lunch, literally with people still trying to walk in as I was shutting the door. “I am so sorry guys, but I have been trying to leave for at least 30 minutes. I will be back in an hour,” I apologized quickly and with true sincerity, but also with deep conviction that I needed this for my emotional health.
It has been rough for me lately. Although I am outrageously happy being back in the place I love, with the people I Iove, and in a new role that I am falling more and more in love with each day, I am now hitting the two month marker of being sick, with zero breaks. After the concussion and subsequent recovery earlier this year, my heart is feeling quite sad in regards to how my body is doing. I feel and see myself sinking into that depression world once again. Skipping out on all the activities I love and running out of ideas and optimism. I am skipping out on the invites because I need to rest. I am not less optimistic, I am just being realistic. How do I know which it is? Maybe I do not know. What I do know is that riding those powdery waves of nature’s white magic will “free the funk” and therefore I must twist my hips and feel the wind on my cheeks.
Standing near the entrance of the lift line lanes, at the bottom of Chair 11 – “The Reut”, I drop my board on the ground, and look up. “Oh man I am sorry, I am right in your way,” I hear from the male snowboarder strapping one foot in directly ahead of me.
“No worries, man. I am taking it slow today,” I reply, with pure ease.
Wow, that run looks way steeper than I remember it. I used to ride that all the time. It’s one of my favorites on a powder day, because it is so steep. But, damn, it looks scary now!
The run I was looking at was not the one I was planning to riding today, but it was off of the same lift I was about to go up, and it was also right next to the trees where I got close lined by a branch last February. I was intimidated and nervous. Fidgeting with my gloves, I bounced between wanting to strap in right now, and be ready as soon as my man arrived, or just to hang back, as to not get all worked up. Eventually, I shoved my right toes into the binding, and pulled the rubber strap up towards my calf, with all my strength, locking myself into the step-in bindings. For the third or fourth time, I took off and on my helmet, adjusting, and adding a layer (a buff) on my head to make the helmet more secure.
At first, I could not recognize my partner because I did not see his curly hair flapping behind his neck. Maybe he thought the same thing about me and only shoulder length braids on each side. I had never seen him skiing without long hair. He had never seen me snowboarding without long hair. “Here we go!” I say as soon as his smile meets mine, and I start skating my way through the orange ropes, pushing my left foot down and back, while my right foot and knee are awkwardly bent inwards.
Reaching the front, to the little red rubber strip that says, “wait here,” I push on past, calling Dan to follow with only my body, and I give a, “Heya Joe!” to one of the lifties, who is also an awesome employee, and dare I say, friend. I lift my right foot slightly to keep from dragging into the snow, and we are lifted off the ground. Taking an immediate deep breath, I grab the bar from behind us, and pull it up and over our heads, white knuckling it under my lobster like mitten Gortex gloves. Another deep breath, and I look around at that white winter wonderland, surrounding the entire 360 view, left to right, top to bottom. I smile, and turn my head to the right to meet a smile on my love’s face.
“You know, it sure has been a long time since I had a…”
He kisses me.
“…chairlift smooch.”
We exit the chairlift, down the ramp, veering to the right. He pushes along the cat track with his poles, and I skate away, awkwardly as always, but with a smile for simply being back on that cat track. I step my left foot into my red bindings, and pull the rubber strap up with all my strength, instantly rising to my feet once it locks in. “Okay, let’s do this,” I say, after we snag a few sweet pics. We are off!
Sticking to the ungroomed section to the left of Buckboard, I twist my hips, bend my knees, twist my hips and straighten my knees, all in one fluid motion, for the most part. Quickly, I pick up exactly where I left off nine months ago – confident, skilled, and definitely needing more work.
I am going to sign up for another EK lesson ASAP. I hate that turning from my heel to toe side is still so clunky.
Intensely focused on each following turn, each lump of snow, and even where my hands are placed in accordance to my body, I realize my love, laden in bright orange pants and navy blue jacket, has disappeared. He is probably up ahead somewhere or goofing off in the trees.
“Wooooooohoooooooo! Oh yeeeeeeeeaaaah!” booms to my right as a flash of orange and dark blue whiz by me on two skis. There’s my man.
I smile, relax a bit, and after a few turns, release my own, much smaller, and less confident, “woooooo!”
Eventually, I will get back to my silly hooping and hollering, costume and cape wearing,
double black diamond shredding shelf. For now, two runs, with him, on that board, on that mountain, in those conditions, is enough.