The Snow Before the Thaw

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As someone who suffers from intermittent impulsivity, I thought it would be fun to go snowboarding with some of my co-workers on the eve prior to leaving on a relaxing vacation to the jewel of the South - Charleston, South Carolina. Keep in mind it's been 5 years since I last snowboarded. My rationale for entertaining such a crazy idea was this: well self, you haven't gotten off your lazy ass since who knows when to do who knows what to your body, so before you leave to gorge yourself full of good southern cooking, why don't you get some exercise?

And so I did. Here's a summary of the day with a little help from Mastercard:

Gas: $33.41

1/2 day of snowboarding + rental: $61.00

Delicious turkey reuben & beers: $21.00

Joint & muscle pain, bruises, and limited range of motion: priceless

Despite the pain and stiffness I would later incur as a penalty for a near sedentary lifestyle (formerly known as studious college student), I must admit that this whirlwind snowboarding trip was just the push out of my comfort zone that I didn't know I was craving. It was exhilerating, peaceful, and gave me a much appreciated opportunity to connect with my fabulous co-workers. Nothing brings a group of people together like convincing one another that falling is really learning or giggling hysterically from pain.

Forcing yourself to meet or exceed your physical limitations illicits intense feelings of fear intermingled with fleeting feelings of exhilleration and accomplishment. At the onset of settling into my "snow legs" (which, to be honest, I never really had...but I count living in Sault Ste. Marie, Michigan for four years as achieving "snow legs" by proxy) I was riddled with fear. In fact, my first attempt at grabbing the toe-rope was comical at best. Helplessly attached to my snowboard, I latched onto the toe-rope, wobbled 100 feet then toppled over and initiated a domino effect for those poor fools who happened to be behind me in the toe-rope line. In scurrying out of line, I had to engage in a half crawl, half hop with my snowboard "tail." This minor hiccup did wonders for my confidence, not to mention my fear that I was soon to fall ass over applecart with resulting fractures, paralysis, and possibly death. Somehow that fear, rather than dauntingly paralyzing, proved a strong motivator. I quickly regrouped, laughed it off, took a deep breath, and attempted to toe-rope (yes, like the rest of my fellow millenials, we are prone to turning nouns into verbs) again. The second time was the charm - woohoo! I held on all the way to the top! Success!! Wait, now what? I have to let go?! But...well, shit. Great. At least this time I didn't run into anybody else. Somewhere between the multiple self-inflicted ass-floggings and the peaceful rides on the ski-lift, I found my version of snow nirvana. A balance between speed and control. A heightening of all my senses. Intense focus and determination. Childlike awe and enjoyment. Laughter. Accomplishment.

I went with a married co-worker and two other singles. After boarding and skiing for an hour and a half, we talked of work, relationships, past snow experiences, music, and life as we enjoyed beer and bar food.

We came.

We boarded.

We bonded.

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