Had me some fun today. Went to snowbird and TORE IT UP!! (Todd, if you are reading this, don't laugh) : ) Really, we did eventually have fun, but as most things go in my life, it didn't entirely go as planned... Perfection is VERY boring, I have decided.
As we were driving up towards the resort, Todd and the teens were describing one of the lifts that goes very fast and is very steep. They know of my fear of lifts and because of their love for me, they were describing it in very horrific details that made me have anxiety. I really did get sweaty feet and palms!! As I was sitting, terrified, in the car, I realized I was in a very tenuous situation- my husband was taking me skiing. My husband and I have never skied together. The terror of it was all consuming as you will soon understand. You have to know my husband (as all of you do)... he is very athletic and sure of himself and has more often than not got me (and many others) to do things that they probably should not be doing because of their natural lack of athletic skill.
The first time I experienced this was at Slickrock, Moab, when we were first married. Never had I been to Moab, never ridden on slickrock, had only ridden my mountain bikes on city streets (what else??). I received a 30 second tutorial that included something about applying my brakes and something about being in a low gear and then he was off. How hard can it be, I thought. My husband loves me, I thought. He would never have me do something dangerous, I thought. Oh, how I underestimated his desire to cause me pain and distress. Needless to say, the first time I went down a steep hill, I applied the wrong brake (the FRONT brake) and almost did a face plant on the lovely slickrock. A person riding behind me gave me a little more extensive tutuorial about braking methods and how to not kill yourself or break you neck on the trail. My husband never saw a thing... too busy riding with "reckless abandon".
The second example of his total lack of care for my safety is one I experience at least 2 times a year when we go to the beach. He is not content with me on the beach, in a comfy lawn chair reading a glorious novel. Oh, no no... I must do what he loves to do and that is play in the waves. The bigger the better. We take floaties of any sort to play in the water- in fact, one year we blew up a huge camping mattress and tried to body surf it in... lots of sand rash that year. We are like the white-trash "Griswold's Go To Cancun". Most of the time, it is fun. But then Todd gets bored and wants me to "come out with me a little farther..don't be a baby...I can totally touch (he is 6'4'' and I am 5'6'')...trust me!" I love the "trust me" one, that is the best. He proceeds to drag me out into the ocean, I assume to drown me or half-drown me so I will be more submissive (hasn't worked yet). He makes up super fun games like, "Close your eyes and let the wave smash you to the ocean floor." and "Let me see what happens if I try to throw you over a big tall wave". They are super-dee-duper fun. Needless to say, I have only just survived many vacations with him.
The third and most striking example of Todd's caring nature dates back to when I was pregnant with Madison. His sister, Jodi, had just had her 2nd baby and did the unthinkable---no epidural. Todd got it into his head that I was surely as "bad-as_" as Jodi and I could do with no drugs too. Oh, and it would save lots of money if I got no drugs. So, he brainwashed me into thinking it wouldn't be that bad and that I was a tough farm girl and do I really want to live with the fact that Jodi did it and I couldn't.. HOLY FREAKING NIGHTMARE!! I suffered for hours trying to please that man and what did he do in my significant time of need... let me tell you, he went to get french toast. That's right, french toast. He was very famished. When he abandoned me, I abandoned his plan and as he enjoyed his syrupy french toast, I enjoyed the miracle of hard-core, "bad-as_" drugs and drug-induced paralyzation.
So, back to my original story. He loves to push me to my limits (and beyond) and I was going freaking skiing with the sadist. We had the kids with us and so I couldn't make a scene and tell him if he took me on so much as a gentle bunny slope I would divorce him. I was stuck. I was at his mercy. Sheez, I sure I was about to die.
Going up the lift for the first run, I said a quick pray "Please strike my husband down.." and then focused on staying alive. He tried to swing and bounce the lift so I would get mad. I did. He was gleeful. So full of life. So in his element. All the way up the lift I noticed my feet were going numb. I thought one of 2 things was happening - 1)My fear had actually caused a neurologic problem or 2)I had diabetes. #2 made more sense to me. I am not kidding, I was wishing for another epidural on the ski lift up. I could not figure out the extreme pain I was in. And that was when I wasn't skiing. As we got off the lift the pain intensified to the point of causing me serious distress. I thought I could gut it out for my family. But that first run took us a long time because I literally could not take the pain. It went from excruciating pain to completely numb, both feet. I felt like my feet were coming out of the boots with every turn, and I could not stand to tighten them more. I was in tears half-way down the mountain, Tanner so concerned, Maddie so bored, Todd so frustrated cause I wasn't catching air (just kidding honey). A man stopped and asked if we needed ski patrol, I said "Yes, sir and I need a cocktail." I really said no, but I wanted to say yes. Finally after what seemed like hours, we reached the bottom. I was ready to leave right then and there, but Todd, sweet Todd, convinced me to go in the ski shop and see if they could figure out the problem.
Really long story shorter, the place we had rented the skis from had given me boots that were almost 3 sizes to big. Hmmm... maybe that was somehow Todd's idea. Kidding! We got the right size boots and away we went to enjoy our day (now a 1/2 a day) on the slopes. All was improved and we were having fun. I followed my husband, obediently to a new lift and got on and then realized I may have erred in my blind faith. Tanner informed me on the lift that I was going to have to ski down a black diamond -- there was no easy way down. Once again, I cursed that man. I am here to tell you that I was super scared and I went super slow, but I made it down that mountain and then...
I went down it again-it was kind of fun, in a horrifying way.
After lunch and a few more runs, we were ready to head for home. Todd found the nearest DOUBLE BLACK DIAMOND trail off in the trees- avalanche ready- and headed straight for it, the entire time saying, "You can do it, trust me..." Of course, I followed him, off groomed trails, thru powder, the entire time chuckling at my stupidity. As he disappeared over the precipice, I felt a surge of adrenaline come over me and I KNEW that it was a new day and I did the unthinkable..
I TURNED AROUND AND WENT BACK TO THE GROOMED TRAIL LEAVING MY TEENS WITH THEIR CRAZY FATHER.
I finished my day, not fighting for my life in a air pocket under an avalanche, but skiing down a fabulous blue diamond trail like the chicken that I am.
