Well, I’m currently on this streak of taking up sports that might result in my being seriously injured. Over Spring Break, I went snowboarding for the first time in Tahoe. I started skiing when I was relatively young, so I thought the whole snowboarding thing would pretty much fall into place. Same concept, right: You strap yourself on to a giant piece of fiberglass and launch yourself down the mountain.

So I had my cute little snow bunny outfit on and I was all ready to go. I was going to be the picture of elegance: swoosh, swoosh, swoosh. glide.

Yeah, no. Actually, my day went more like this:

Stumble. Stumble. Chair Lift. Relax. Nice view. Nice view.
Face slide. People laughing. Mouthful of snow. Pain. Standing. Nope just kidding: sitting. Standing.
Heading towards tree. Accelerating towards trees. OH GOD! Loud scream. Flail. Fall. More Pain.

Concussion?

This was most certainly not the elegant scenario I had imagined. And the best part: sometimes to right yourself on a snowboard, you have to do this little twisting thing, during which there’s a solid 10 seconds when your ass’s just sticking up in the air. Oh I was looking very elegant. And of course, I was with one of those people who picked up the snowboarding concept in like .5 seconds and wanted to go on the Black Diamond after her first run down the Bunny Hill. Yeah, so her Christmas card is definitely in jeopardy this year. She may not even see one til 2005. We’ll see how I’m feeling.

I really think though (to place blame on a party other than myself) that the resort pretty much set me up for failure. I mean they gave me a snowboard entitled “The Accelerator”. Yeah, exactly. It was like giving a drunk driver a Ferrari. No one was safe. Although, I’ve got to admit I did try and peg a few of those snot-nosed kids. You know, the six-year olds who have been snowboarding since they were like fetuses. Yeah, I hate them. Especially when I’m sitting there and everything on me hurts and the last thing my body wants to do is stand up, and then these little brats go whizzing by in perfect form tossing a “Lady, are you alright?!?” behind them. C’mon admit it: we all want to see them take a face dive. I was just willing to help them along with that process…

Alright, so second deadly sport I’m taking up: rock climbing. Now, I’ve never even been on one of those indoor walls but my brother has somehow convinced me that rock climbing’s relatively easy and that I can go right to a mountain face. (You know what, I’m starting to consider the possibility that everyone I know is trying to kill me. Maybe they’ve taken out some giant group life insurance policy or something).

Anyway, so I am supposed to go next weekend. The phone call with my brother went something like this:

“So do you want to go bouldering or just basic rock climbing with ropes and stuff?”

“What’s bouldering?”

“Well, you climb up a boulder, get to a certain height, and fall off onto a pad.”

“You mean that 1″ piece of foam you got for Christmas?”

“Yeah.”

{Insert a nanosecond pause}

“Okay, so how about basic rock climbing?”

“Well that’s where you’ll be attached to a rope.”

“Who’s holding the rope?”

“I am.”

“Oh.”

{Insert a long awkward pause}

“Don’t worry. I only dropped Kate (the girlfriend) like once or twice…”

 

Pray for me. Regardless of which deity you might worship, pray for me.

(Your check’s in the mail)