Jack and Jill went up the hill and then slid down it on the other side on a board and were given a gold medal for their efforts.
Posted by L.A.
*Note from the blogger — prior to publishing this post, a similar post of similar occurances was posted over at Waste Of Heels, a fabulous blog written by the incomparable-even-though-she’s-cheering-for-Canada-today-Lady B. This basically means that she’s me, but in Canada, and you should be reading her post too.
If you live in Michigan, you’re supposed to do winter-y things. Depending on your level of skill, this means sledding, or tubing, or snowman building, or if you’re truly talented, properly cleaning off your car so as to not be that douchebag that drives down the road with it flying off the roof at other motorists.
Now, I’m not saying that I don’t have winter activity skills…I’ve successfully built a number of snowmen in my time, and gone sledding and tubing while growing up, and there was this one time when my Girl Scout troop decided it would be an awesome idea to go cross country skiing, and I’m pretty sure I didn’t fall then.
…but if you haven’t noticed, sometimes I am occasionally…accident prone.
I saw my friend TomSelleck recently, and our conversation went like so:
Him: So do you have any new bruises?
(The answer is no.)
I’ve been snowboarding exactly
three four times in my life (now including the recent birthday festivities).
The last time I went, while attempting to figure out this “tow rope,” I fell.
Not coming down the mountain, but attempting to go up the damn thing. I fall within the first seconds of holding on to this rope, and since we had decided to try snowboarding on Christmas Eve, the place was basically deserted. No one was around to give me advice or maybe tell me,
DO NOT CONTINUE TO HOLD ONTO THE TOW ROPE.
Which means that I made it up the mountain. Hanging on for dear life to this rope. On my ass.
I showed up to Cannonsburg thinking we’d have a nice klatch of the high school crew, CoSi and FunSized to maybe be as skillful as I am and chuckle the whole way [potentially on my backside] down the mountain.
It turned out to be Arrington, his girlfriend (who brought her own skis), and me.
Arrington attempted to walk me through the basics of everything so I wouldn’t make a complete ass out of myself, and I actually made it down various hills of various sizes without too much bodily harm or embarrassment.
The Typical “Run” of L.A. down a Mountain on a Board
Start at top of hill. Congratulate self on making it up the mountain on the murderous rope of towing without falling. Strap foot in.
Arrington tells me to make sure that some foot that does something is either in front or in back because that’s the foot I can use for like steering or bracing myself or something like that. There is silent acknowledgement that I do not know how to steer.
Point snowboard down mountain because that seems like a pretty reasonable choice. Began sliding down mountain. Realize that I’m standing and not falling and try to keep my gleeful “sqee” noises to a minimum. I figure a deadpan face will make it look like I know what I’m doing.
Do a sort of turn to keep heading down mountain. Realize that snow seems to help with steering in the fact that it is making me go ways that I don’t think I was choosing to go. Pray that people know to get out of my way. Arrington tells me to use my back leg as a rudder to steer. I think rudders steer boats. This makes sense until another turn makes my back leg my front leg and I realize that I might not have full control of all my limbs and debate what I can blame this on when I inevitably crash.
Probably a spider bite. Paralyzed left leg. Have no control over it.
Realize I’m going incredibly fast. Arrington basically walks up to me because his normal speed is my fast and tells me ways to lean to slow down.
I lean. I slow down. It’s extremely effective. I remind myself to not forget the slowing down part.
Still going fast. Kind of freaking out. Realize that slowing down does not mean stopping and that the end of the mountain is getting close.
Lean. Lean. Lean. Lean. LEAN. LEANING.
Sit down on mountain. Stop. Am reminded of roller blading around my neighborhood as a youth, when I just jumped in the grass and hugged a tree to stop.
Did that on purpose, guys. I’m at the bottom of the mountain, guys. I didn’t even really fall, guys.