When I was a little girl my grandparents lived in a closed subdivision called North Point up in the Avenues by the old Primary Children’s hospital. Up on top of the northern Salt Lake Valley mountains, on the western edge of the neighborhood you could look over Memory Grove, from way up high.
One day my mom brought our little family up for a visit. Leaning up against the front entry closet were two small pairs of skis, poles, and boots.
“Who are these for!!!!??” My brother and I asked with wide eyes.
“They are for you two,” Grandpa said.
Grandpa Evans was an avid outdoors man. He loved being outside, hiking, backpacking, skiing, fishing… you name it, he loved it.
That year, and for several years after, he was our skiing mentor and coach.
He took us up to Park City Ski Resort, where we would spend the day learning the basics of pizza pie and french fries. One day, I remember being super tiny, skiing down the hill all by myself. Grandpa and my brother Solomon happened to go overhead in the ski lift at the same time I was going down. Grandpa had bought me a candy bar, his favorite, a peanut roll, and threw it down to me. I didn’t know what it was, and so I went on with my run. Later I found out what happened and felt very disappointed that I missed out on my heaven sent treat.
Another time I fell down in the splits. Not uncomfortable, I just sat there waiting for him to come save me. Hanging out, with one ski going down, the other going up, and my entire length of my legs in between, sitting comfortably in the snow.
Lastly, Grandpa always believed we could do hard things, and encouraged us to try things that made us a little uncomfortable. To make it back to Main Street in Park City, rather than the ski resort parking lot and drive to our condo, there was a special run that came into town. It was convenient just to ski down, and walk the remaining way home. This run was extremely challenging to my novice skiing abilities, and yet, he led the way down the steep slope back home.
I love skiing! I love the feeling of cold air on my face. I love the sensation of gliding down the mountain. I love processing the amazing ability that the human body has to direct the most minute detail of pressure, lift, weight and intention to control, or sometimes as it is, attempt-to-control the outcome of the hill. I love the sensation of being on top of the mountain, overlooking God’s great creations, in the middle of the snow covered winter.
For years my husband and I haven’t created the opportunity to go skiing. Too expensive, I was pregnant, nursing, or caring for tiny kids. This year I bought a couple passes to go skiing for Jonny’s Christmas gift. Oh my!!! Did I mention that I love to ski?!! It almost seemed that we had the mountain to ourselves. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, the temperatures were delightfully warm.
At first I felt honestly trepidations about getting back on the hill.
“Do I remember how to ski?”
“Can I still do this?”
“What if I fall and get hurt?”
The first three or four runs, I felt like I was back in the days of bunny hills and ski lessons. Not to long though, and the muscle memory kicked in.
My take home lesson from these favorite experience is to do what you love!
The level of difficulty that I once enjoyed is no longer appealing, but the experience takes me back to my hero grandpa and the gift he shared of loving the outdoors.
Try new things! Don’t be afraid to fall.
Unless you are afraid to fall, like me, then don’t go on the black diamonds, and slow down. But don’t be too afraid to try.
I even saw a celebrity on the slopes. John Michael Higgins, was eating lunch with some friends. Yes, that was cool. No, I didn’t take a picture, or even talk to him. But he does look quite a bit older in real life.
Lastly, skiing is a really great opportunity to meet amazing people.
We met a Russian woman who works in NYC for the United Nations. We met ski instructors who have lived their whole lives coming to Utah from around the country to ski, one who had a remarkable amount of nose hair, wow, you are so glad I told you that. We met people from around the world who traveled to our own back yard for a crisp winter day on the slopes. How amazing is that?
So, what do you like to do? Is it intimidating now that you have little people to live for? Or is it an opportunity to share with them your passion?
