don't think too hard about it

"Är du bra?" The third concerned Swedish lady called to me as she ascended up the hill next to me. Are you okay?

"Yeah," I shouted back, making a face. Her concern wasn't surprising; I was half lying, splayed, halfway up the steep slope leading to the expert skiing hill. No, I hadn't crashed and burned after attempting a fancy new stunt. I hadn't even made it to the top – I had lost control of my skis while riding the T-bar lift up the hill.

We arrived with a group of seven: three of my siblings with their three out of country visitors. And me. Unsurprisingly, I was left without a partner for the lift up the hill. I went first, careful to lean back and not sit, while keeping my feet parallel. It was with a slow motion horror that, 500 meters up the hill, I watched my skis begin to split directions, dragging my feet outwards, yanking my knees toward each other.

I ended up on my back between lines of ascending skiiers, trying to figure out how to stand up. My six companions drifted past me, shouting various bits of conflicting advice, including: "Stand up and wait for an empty one," and "Take your skis off and walk up." I chose the latter (deciding against an accidental trip down the steep slope.)

**

Donc, I spent the initial 45 minutes of my first skiing trip lugging my skis and poles up the side of the hill as 50+ people glided by me on the T-bar. My ski shoes were stiff, unwieldy, and heavy.

When I made it to the top, I discovered that the path to the bunny slope was not actually a path, but the intense intermediate course. Will had practically rolled down. Llama saw this, removed her skis, and walked. Our guests – all of whom were experienced – skiied smoothly down. Emma and I discussed our options. She decided to go for it. I watched as she went headlong down the hill, straight down, and out of sight. She crashed on the other side. Fair enough; she had never learned to do the "S" thing or to stop.

I took a deep breath. I was sick of walking in my lead boots. I was here to ski. Anna – Will's visiting girlfriend – had told me I would be fine. I put my skis on and eased forward. And then I was off, speeding like a maniac, absolutely clueless to how to slow down, or even turn. My heart was doing its "You're an idiot" spastic irregular rhythm, and then suddenly I lost all semblance of control and crashlanded.

My landing was reasonably soft, and the experience had been so thrilling that I was laughing like a nutcase. "Did you see me!" I yelled at Emma, who was still untangling from her fall. "No! Isn't this fun?!" "Yeah!"

Then followed three hours of magic.

**


Life Advice for First Time American Skiiers in Stockholm.

1) Know all of your measurements in metric. Weight, height, foot size. We spent 15 minutes trying to gauge these based off of each other's estimates.

2) When speeding downhill, don't shove your poles into the ground.

3) Sitting down will not stop you. It will actually make you go faster.