I loved your story and relate. When I was in my 20s, I married a mountain man from Seattle who literally did ballet while skiing downhill. I skiied and fell alone, with the 10 year olds.
When I was 30, we divorced and I took a ski course in VT for women, which gave me confidence and technique. And I joined several friends for week-long ski trips to Colorado. My second husband looked like a fearless gorilla on skis, and tricked me into taking a lift up a black diamond slope. I slid on my ass all the way down. No matter how much experience and improvement I gained, I dreafed every ski trip. Shortly after my son was born, I had the guts to quit skiing. The relief was magnificent! I am now 73 years old and haven't skied in years. I'd rather read and write, while bundled up in my warm apartment.
I've lived in Colorado my entire life and I hate skiing. I hate the lift, the wind, falling, getting cold, paying a lot of money, getting up early on days when I should sleep in, all of it!!!! Thank you!
My parents were young and sporty and loved to ski. I've got photos of them from the 70s to prove it. They dragged me, their bookish, stick-figure daughter, to the slopes each winter between my 7th and 11th year, and tried to help me tap the joys of flying down hills in the obscene cold. Nope. Every year my feet would freeze numb in my rented boots. One year I actually threw up on the guy helping me into the skis. I never got past the bunny slopes. Every year we'd drive up to Mammoth and I'd wait for my father's inevitable swerve off the mountain into the icy abyss. I hated staying in cold-ass cabins that always had a black widow or three in the bed. I hated every. single. thing about skiing, including the parking and the price-tag, even though I obviously wasn't paying.
But that's just how it was growing up in SoCal as an unathletic hand-wringer. I'm equally traumatized by tennis and beach volleyball. Thankfully I eventually discovered yoga.
Sari, I tried skiing over and over for my husband, the Professor, over the years. I hated it but kept doing it fir him until the clear blue-sky day when the snow was supposedly perfect and I fell backward, hitting my head while getting off the chairlift.
I hadn't been apprehensive, hadn't been tense. In other words, it "wasn't my fault". As I gingerly probed the back of my head to make sure there was no blood, I decided. I hate skiing and I'm never doing it again. Not for him. Not for anyone.
That was probably more than 35 years ago and was one of the most empowering decisions I ever made.
Now, he still buys annual passes to ski every year and I get lovely me time all day.
Thank goodness you learned to embrace your hatred of skiing. It's never a good idea to try and mold yourself to a man, for his love. But so many of us do it, or did it. I hope the younger generations of women are more self-aware and savvy and strong. I so appreciate your writing--with humor and truth.
So good-- and I feel you. Not a skier and more than not interested-- scared too. Even my urban academic high school had winter ski trips that were a chance to show off either athletic skills (I had none) or social status (murky). Three of us would get together those weekends and call ourselves the Non-Skiers Club. I was lucky to have sympathizers.
Entertainingly recounted, Sari. And thanks for reminding me how fortunate I am that my generally unathletic wife unhesitatingly took lessons, embraced the sport and became a decent intermediate skier. She never hated it, but definitely took it up to please someone she liked.
But yes, we definitely shouldn't pretend to be who we're not.
I just about had to pick my jaw up off the floor when I read this. I love cross country skiing but am utterly terrified of downhill. The main reason? Fear of heights leads me to fear of the chairlift. The handful of times I've done it all I've imagined is passing out from panic, then sliding out of the chair and falling to my death. Everyone reassures me this is crazy and no one falls out of a chairlift, but you did!! 😱😱😱😱😱😱😱😱😱😱😱😱😱
And now on a general note now that I've lost my mind about my very specific fear you just articulated: this is a generally magnificent piece. I love your description of those chairlift tags on jacket zippers as a status symbol. Brilliant writing that cuts to the point, as always.
So much resonance here, Sari! I so recall trying to fit in with the ski crowd when our Seattle public school's ski bus took us up to the slopes, or I went on a date (and broke my date's borrowed skis). I too tumbled off the chair when there wasn't enough snow to make it easy. The remarriage thing into a different "class" sounds so painful, too. Thanks for sharing this segment of your book.
What is it with exes and skiing?!? Grew up working class so my first experience was with my high school Danish boyfriend. I believed him when he said, “Oh it is easy, you just take the lift up and ski down.” I took the ski lift up and walked down. Then spent a 19 year marriage trying to learn to love skiing. At best I could do a few runs in perfect conditions, while I promised myself I could get my favorite chai, a cookie, and knit after those runs were over. Thank you for this piece, I am not alone.
I loved your story and relate. When I was in my 20s, I married a mountain man from Seattle who literally did ballet while skiing downhill. I skiied and fell alone, with the 10 year olds.
When I was 30, we divorced and I took a ski course in VT for women, which gave me confidence and technique. And I joined several friends for week-long ski trips to Colorado. My second husband looked like a fearless gorilla on skis, and tricked me into taking a lift up a black diamond slope. I slid on my ass all the way down. No matter how much experience and improvement I gained, I dreafed every ski trip. Shortly after my son was born, I had the guts to quit skiing. The relief was magnificent! I am now 73 years old and haven't skied in years. I'd rather read and write, while bundled up in my warm apartment.
I've lived in Colorado my entire life and I hate skiing. I hate the lift, the wind, falling, getting cold, paying a lot of money, getting up early on days when I should sleep in, all of it!!!! Thank you!
I feel seen!
My parents were young and sporty and loved to ski. I've got photos of them from the 70s to prove it. They dragged me, their bookish, stick-figure daughter, to the slopes each winter between my 7th and 11th year, and tried to help me tap the joys of flying down hills in the obscene cold. Nope. Every year my feet would freeze numb in my rented boots. One year I actually threw up on the guy helping me into the skis. I never got past the bunny slopes. Every year we'd drive up to Mammoth and I'd wait for my father's inevitable swerve off the mountain into the icy abyss. I hated staying in cold-ass cabins that always had a black widow or three in the bed. I hated every. single. thing about skiing, including the parking and the price-tag, even though I obviously wasn't paying.
But that's just how it was growing up in SoCal as an unathletic hand-wringer. I'm equally traumatized by tennis and beach volleyball. Thankfully I eventually discovered yoga.
Sari, I tried skiing over and over for my husband, the Professor, over the years. I hated it but kept doing it fir him until the clear blue-sky day when the snow was supposedly perfect and I fell backward, hitting my head while getting off the chairlift.
I hadn't been apprehensive, hadn't been tense. In other words, it "wasn't my fault". As I gingerly probed the back of my head to make sure there was no blood, I decided. I hate skiing and I'm never doing it again. Not for him. Not for anyone.
That was probably more than 35 years ago and was one of the most empowering decisions I ever made.
Now, he still buys annual passes to ski every year and I get lovely me time all day.
Loved your way of telling a story, the images and your evolution (or not, in the case of skiing) through time! 💚
Thank goodness you learned to embrace your hatred of skiing. It's never a good idea to try and mold yourself to a man, for his love. But so many of us do it, or did it. I hope the younger generations of women are more self-aware and savvy and strong. I so appreciate your writing--with humor and truth.
So good-- and I feel you. Not a skier and more than not interested-- scared too. Even my urban academic high school had winter ski trips that were a chance to show off either athletic skills (I had none) or social status (murky). Three of us would get together those weekends and call ourselves the Non-Skiers Club. I was lucky to have sympathizers.
I love skiing (born in Aspen – how could I not?)! But enjoyed this nonetheless. It’s interesting to hear the opposite perspective.
One time on the slopes was enough for me. Then I discovered cross country skiing. None ot that lift-jumping madness.
Entertainingly recounted, Sari. And thanks for reminding me how fortunate I am that my generally unathletic wife unhesitatingly took lessons, embraced the sport and became a decent intermediate skier. She never hated it, but definitely took it up to please someone she liked.
But yes, we definitely shouldn't pretend to be who we're not.
I just about had to pick my jaw up off the floor when I read this. I love cross country skiing but am utterly terrified of downhill. The main reason? Fear of heights leads me to fear of the chairlift. The handful of times I've done it all I've imagined is passing out from panic, then sliding out of the chair and falling to my death. Everyone reassures me this is crazy and no one falls out of a chairlift, but you did!! 😱😱😱😱😱😱😱😱😱😱😱😱😱
And now on a general note now that I've lost my mind about my very specific fear you just articulated: this is a generally magnificent piece. I love your description of those chairlift tags on jacket zippers as a status symbol. Brilliant writing that cuts to the point, as always.
So much resonance here, Sari! I so recall trying to fit in with the ski crowd when our Seattle public school's ski bus took us up to the slopes, or I went on a date (and broke my date's borrowed skis). I too tumbled off the chair when there wasn't enough snow to make it easy. The remarriage thing into a different "class" sounds so painful, too. Thanks for sharing this segment of your book.
What is it with exes and skiing?!? Grew up working class so my first experience was with my high school Danish boyfriend. I believed him when he said, “Oh it is easy, you just take the lift up and ski down.” I took the ski lift up and walked down. Then spent a 19 year marriage trying to learn to love skiing. At best I could do a few runs in perfect conditions, while I promised myself I could get my favorite chai, a cookie, and knit after those runs were over. Thank you for this piece, I am not alone.
I love your writing style. I felt like I was with you every slide of the way!
Repeat after me, Black people don’t ski. Them are da facts. 😂
https://www.heart.org/en/news/2023/01/17/black-people-rarely-hit-the-ski-slopes-but-those-who-love-winter-sports-are-working-to-change-that#:~:text=It's%20true%20that%20Black%20skiers,changed%20over%20the%20past%20decade.
beautiful writing!