I keep telling people this story, so I have to share it with you guys.

Learning to ski, naturally, I had my fair share of falls. After Day 1 when I failed miserably at snowboarding and fell on my tailbone, I was understandably wary of falling again. Still the day progressed and I was okay.

Until…

I was zigzagging down the baby hill, doing my thing, when panic set in. I was going too fast. I tried to snow plow (apparently the hub was yelling “Snow plow, Susan, snow plow!” My thighs hurt so bad, I thought smoke was coming off them.

I was headed toward a snow bank, so I thought, “Ok, worse case is I break my fall by running into that bank.”

Heh.

Somehow the snow bank turned into a ramp and I skiied right up it, twisted around and sat down with my skis tilted above my head.

I come to my sense and see a horrified guy on a snowboard headed my way. And then I see my husband, snickering. I start laughing, since I realize I’m fine, just stunned. The guy goes the other way. Husband untangles me. I was fine.

Skiing is so fun.

I was thinking how scared we get as we get older. There were these little kids, like 2, who were skiing with no problems. Yet fear inhibited many of the adults in the beginner class. Why is that? I fell and I was fine. We lose that confidence somewhere along the line.