As many of you now know, I go on a ski trip every year with my wife.
Unfortunately the older I get, the more I hate ski boots. They're skinny and hard and they put your ankles at angles that are really only useful while you are, you know, skiing. Typically, however, I spend a lot more time getting into position to ski than I do actually skiing. This year, I thought I'd be clever and try snowboarding.
Just because the boots look more comfortable.
Which totally sounds like a recipe for success.
And it was. I was walking pain-free circles around my wife. Even managed to strap one foot in, scoot around and get on the ski lift without any trouble. "How hard can it be?" I thought. Heck, even a Kardashian could probably do it.
Let's just say that I snowboarded with all of the suave and grace you could reasonably expect from a man of my size and age who had never snowboarded before and who was never all that great at skiing in the first place.
I fell for the first time after getting about 6 feet off of the ski lift (for those of you scoring at home, that's 2 inches of snowboarding and 5'10" of me falling forward). Twenty-five feet down the mountain I had fallen approximately 50 more times. Little people (the child kind) and old people (the old people kind) zipped all around me. There were actually a few times where I stayed on my feet for a minute, then I'd have to attempt something crazy like "turn" or "slow down" and the whole "fall, curse, flip around awkwardly, stand, slide, and fall" routine would start all over.
It was around this point that I became perfectly aware that if I was going to stay on that board for one more second that someone (and probably not me) was going to die.
It was a long walk down the hill. I care too much about the little people (of all kinds).