I have to start this one off by giving mad props to my husband. Never have I seen him more patient and supportive. We arrived at Sunday River at about 11:00 am. After we get completely outfitted and scarf down a few peanut butter sandwiches, we're ready. We head in to buy tickets and realize if we wait 45 minutes or so we can get the half day pass. So we wait. Me, nervously scoping out all of the other skiers wondering what is about to happen to me. Ryan, with the glow of a kid on Christmas.
The time finally comes and we're ready to go. Keep in mind I haven't been skiing in the better part of 15 years--total beginner and Ryan is like a double black skier so at least I know I'm in good hands. After buying our tickets we head up the lift and once we get to the top I am terrified I will not get off fast enough, lose a ski or pole or not be able to stop myself once off of it. None of the previous happened; everything was fine?!?! How could that be? I have NO IDEA what I am doing!?!
So no one lost an eye or anything and we head to the green. Ryan is patient and keeps telling me things like, "Put your skis into a wedge to stop" and "It's only as steep as you want it to be". I listen attentively. Thirty minutes into this and I feel like I'm an actual skier--other than the fact that I avoid others coming down the mountain like the plague. I'm listening and letting my hips and legs do the work and quite frankly, I can turn left like there's no tomorrow. Right on the other hand, I need work. So without control I am a little freaked out by the speed so numerous times I end up either sitting right between my skis or just falling down on my side. All of this is awesome because it doesn't hurt when you fall down! How great is a sport that when you're learning and you screw up, there are basically no consequences other than tumbling around in the snow like a child!
Fast forward a bit to when while trying to cross over a run to a green and we realize it's closed we end up on an unfamiliar path. I am totally freaked out and keep saying to Ryan in my whiniest voice, "Are you sure this is a green?" He assures me it is and I try my best to make it down and then I am totally out of control and try to bail meanwhile slamming my kneecap into a patch of ice. Not good. Then the tears come out and I am thrusted into child mode. "Ryan, it hurts! Ryan, I'm so sorry I ruined your day! Ryan, I am NOT skiing down this thing!" Ryan proceeds to ask for my skis and he tells me to slide down on my ass. I, of course, think this is in fact the best way I am going to descend. And I do. All the way down until Ryan can't take it anymore because I am being so pokey and I feel like he is sooooo ready to move on. We make it almost to the bottom and I ski up. Onto the next.
After skiing a few more times (only on greens), I realize they are closing some of the trails. I also realize that Ryan isn't going to have time to push me aside and do his fun runs (I asked him to do this). So we head to the lodge and I am profusely apologizing for ruining his day all the while he is insisting that he had a blast. What a great husband I have.
Upon our arrival home, we find a cast iron pot full of homemade chicken noodle soup and a vodka tonic with my name all over it. Turns out, I have great roommates too! The rest of the night was spent relaxing. Bliss.