I’m sitting in the window of the ski lodge this morning, feeling very much like a mom this morning. We awoke early, four kids and three parents rushing to jam their clothes on and hit the slopes.
Except I’m not skiing. I’m sitting in the lodge drinking hot cocoa and writing, while I gaze up longingly at the mountain every so often. I’m sick.
To sit here and watch these skiers is to be confronted with a thousand memories of my childhood. These trails were my playground, these lifts the resting place from burning legs and joke time with my brother. But the chairlifts represented something more meaningful too, that didn’t become apparent until I was much older.
My brother and I always had favorite trails we liked to ski. Of course, as siblings we would always argue about which one we would go down. He would always choose the super mogul filled ones, where I would go for the ones that were more well groomed and would allow me to turn as many times as possible. My absolute favorite, however, was skiing under the “big lift.”
At the time, I assumed it was because it started out as an expert trail, and ended as an intermediate. It allowed for both challenge and grace, and was always one of the least icy runs on the mountain. If you are an east coast skier, you know that’s important. However, as I got older, I realized there was a far deeper meaning to that run for me. “Skiing under the liftwas really about holding myself accountable.
When you sit on a chairlift, there isn’t much to do except chat with the person you are sitting with and watching the other skiers go down the mountain. And if you are skiing under the lift, you know all eyes are on you. Wipeout, and you are subject to cheers and jeers from the people dangling above. I loved that pressure.
Somehow, that weird burden I put on myself has carried into adulthood. That odd balance of wanting to be private, and yet putting myself on a public stage. I will ski under a lift to challenge myself not to fall. To ski the very best I can because I know people are watching and judging. And yet, I could remain anonymous and just do my thing specifically for the love of challenging myself and bettering my game. And here I am again, skiing under the lift by writing. Only this time my face is obstructed by a faceless blog, not goggles and the puffiness of my ski clothes. And maybe now that I am an adult, I’m far less concerned about whether or not I fall like I did when I was 12. I just care about the holding myself accountable to do the best job I can part. I think that explains why I went public with this writing as opposed to just writing in a plain old private journal. At first glance, it seemed like such a completely non-me thing to do. And yet, if I compare it to my behaviors of the past, like skiing under the lift, it makes far more sense to me. It’s all about holding myself responsible to do something to the best of my ability - even if I risk looking like an ass doing it.
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