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Tahoe, A Fearless AdventureBy Mary Ann Malkos
“Maybe we should start by taking a beginners lesson.” my brother Nick suggested. “Maybe he needs lessons,” I thought, ‘but I’m a natural.’ I agreed only because he was un-experienced and forting the bill. The tortured lesson over, I rode the ski lift to the top. “You know I’m such a natural when it comes to leg sports,” I said. “I’m just more coordinated than you.” Nick rolled his eyes. As the lift lowered us onto the mountain top my brother looked at me with his boyish grin and said, “It’s time.” I felt confidence mixed with pumping adrenaline. I got to the top and looked down. I felt my legs freeze before me. My whole body felt paralyzed. I couldn’t move. “I’m off,” Nick said, “I’ll see you down there.” I watched as he concentrated on the rules of the lesson and smoothly made his decent. “Okay my turn, let’s go,” I forced my body to wiggle off its fear and began descending. I went straight down the mountain almost out of control until I remembered the back and forth skills presented in our lesson. I slowed down and then looked up for my brother. He had quickly disappeared down the blurred slope. I began to feel better as my legs took control and my mind paced its thoughts. Then shooting from all side of me came very small fearless children, jumping, turning, and smiling. They humbled me, and burst my re-inflated ego. As the bottom of the run came into sight, I saw my brother smiling at me. I reached my hand into the air to wave. I wanted to show him how great I was doing and how confident I felt. But my right leg slipped. I wobbled and I swayed, arms flaring in all directions, a skiing bobble head. The temptation to give into the fall pulled my body forward, but my mind promised me I would be okay. I was able rebalance and finish the run. My brother stared. As I slowly reached him my smile took over and hid the dread I was feeling throughout my body. I said, “Told ya I’m good with my legs.” His eye’s rolled once more. “Wanna go again?” said Nick. “Let’s do it,” I replied as we made our way back to the ski lift. “You know, I think I’m ready for an advanced run, what do you think?” “Why don’t we stick with intermediate,” he answered. “I don’t think I’m ready for advanced.” And for his well being, I agreed. |
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The mountains looked crisp. I could taste the snow. My
thirty year old brother looked like a little boy in his ski jacket and boots. I
felt fear mixed with excitement. Tahoe was a place I had only seen on T.V. To
Chicagoans, it was an elitist’s escape. My brother’s Silicon Valley salary
provided this experience.