Years ago… back when I wore boot cut jeans, Doc Martens, and a heck of a lot more color… I started snowboarding. It came easy to me – I was fresh off from years of figure skating and my balance was killer. But before that, I skied. Skiing was fun… but snowboarding was cooler, more challenging, and all my friends were doing it. Furthermore, I wasn’t afraid of falling and breaking bones – I was used to falling on solid ice which made snow like a walk in the park.
Fast forward 13 years, strap a board to my feet and now the only thing running through my mind is, “don’t fall and break your wrist… if you can’t type, you’re screwed.” And it’s true, breaking a leg would stink (however, it’s nothing a good intern and some days working from home can’t fix) but a wrist?… that would be death.
So there I am stuck, sitting on my butt in the middle of ‘Gorge’ (a black diamond at Crystal Mountain) gazing at the second half of a hill where I should easily be able to regain my footing when my fear of loosing a typing hand takes hold of me. “Does breaking a wrist count as short-term disability?” I thought. “I’ve never had a cast before… I wonder if it’s socially acceptable for a 25-year-old to carry around sharpies and ask for autographs. They even have those little baby ones now that clip to keys chains. Neat.” “Also, I hope at the very least if a wrist breaks that its my left one because I don’t think I could stand more than a couple of days of not being able to apply eye liner and things of that sort.”
As it turns out there is a short-term solution to overcoming this fear: 3 glasses of wine from the lodge. But I know what he’s thinking as he stands there watching me from the next hill over, “We’re going to need her to pick skiing back up before heading out west.”
And he’s right. He usually is.