Fear and loathing on snow

When trying something new forces a confrontation with an old anxiety.

The first time I was ever on skis was in high school, and I didn’t quite comprehend the whole french fry/pizza thing. Once I got up to the top of the beginner hill, I pointed myself down the slope and took off. All gas, no brakes, and even less common sense. 

My wild ride didn’t stop until I was sliding on my butt a few feet in front of a snow fence at the bottom of the hill. An instructor came over waving his arms and screaming at me: What are you doing? Honestly, I had no idea, but I did know that I was scared out of my mind. 

In retrospect, it’s a minor miracle that I didn’t break anything – or anyone else for that matter. Still, the experience left a scar on my psyche. Whenever I’ve attempted to get back on skis, or a snowboard, or anything else that glides on snow, that terrified feeling comes rushing back, triggering a massive fight or flight response. 

Having cortisol pour through my system with boards strapped to my feet isn’t a fun experience. It feels even worse when I become overwhelmed and crash. Over and over again. Failure is one thing. Pain is quite another, especially when it’s mixed with an overwhelming sense of dread. 

My fear of downhill skiing is not something I like admitting about myself, nor is it something I enjoy sharing with others. But we’re friends here, and part of evolving as humans is acknowledging our weaknesses and trying to come to terms with them. 

Enter cross country skiing. The activity appealed to me on a number of levels. In addition to being much, much slower than downhill, classic cross country skiing where you kick and glide is an aerobic powerhouse that’s a natural winter weather cross training complement for runners.

All that sounded great, but before I could even think about learning form or technique, I had to let go of my fear and trust myself. 

What really bothered me about my inability to handle myself on snow is that it was disrupting our family dynamics. Mrs. RP is an excellent snowboarder who got our son on skis at an early age. Sometimes I’d tag along on their adventures and go out for a snowshoe, but for the most part, skiing was something they shared together. 

This winter, we made it a family goal to give cross country a chance. We rented gear for the season and committed to getting out as much as possible. 

It should come as no surprise given my lack of winter sports coordination that I ate it hard during our introductory lesson. Twice actually. The first time was a beginner’s mistake. Everyone falls sometimes. The second fall brought all my anxieties to the surface. 

I was going down a hill – not a big one, but a legit hill – and as I felt my body start to slide, I instinctively stiffened and tried to break. That’s the opposite of what you’re supposed to do, and I wound up crashing awkwardly. That it happened in front of my son who cruised down the hill like a pro made it feel even worse.

As a final kick to the ego, our instructor told me she was surprised because in her experience trail runners usually aren’t afraid of going downhill. Thanks! 

We made plans to go again the following weekend, but I balked, still not sure I wanted to go through that experience again. Mrs. RP, who is both patient and organized, allowed me the space to make my own decision once we got to the ski center, while making sure my gear was packed in the car. 

After much internal deliberation, I decided to give it another chance. I fell twice more that day, hard falls on skied over terrain that had turned icy. Once again, I was frustrated, embarrassed, and plenty sore. But I stuck with it and found some comfort on the flat sections while skipping the downhill that caused my tumble the previous week.  

Finally, by the third time we went, I mustered the courage to try the downhill again. As I began the descent, my knees were shaking and every fiber of my being wanted to find a way to slow down. Instead of giving in to that impulse like I had so many times before, I focused on breathing while allowing the skis to carry my body gently down the slope. 

I’ve done a lot of memorable athletic things over the years, but getting down that hill felt like winning a gold medal. My son gave me a hug and said he was proud of me. Thankfully, he went bombing away before he could see the tears well in my eyes. (Just the wind, son!)  

Despite this breakthrough, I still didn’t feel like I was getting the full cross country experience. We had been skiing on man-made snow in a fairly tight space. It was a decent way to learn, but I was craving long meandering trails through snow-capped woods. 

That’s when the blizzard came. On Saturday, we had about two feet of snow dumped on our region. In addition to the heavy snowfall, the storm brought howling winds that gusted over 50 MPH. 

We ventured out in the afternoon and went to a nearby park where I went back and forth a half dozen times. My skis sank into the snow and my tracks were barely visible by the time I had turned around for another pass. The wind and snow pelted my face, but I felt extraordinarily peaceful on my skis.   

Starting a prog metal band, calling it: Blizzard Face.

We then made plans to go to a different ski center with longer trails and wider paths. That’s when it finally started to click. Not only was I able to stay upright, but I found myself purposefully increasing speed on small rolling hills. 

On Tuesday, I went out by myself for the first time. Naturally, it took me 15 minutes to get into my bindings without help, but my boots eventually clicked into place. It was then that I noticed the other skiers at the trailhead were smiling and relaxed. A far cry from the aggro downhill scene and much more my vibe. 

The weather was perfect and trails were ideal. After a few minutes of tooling around, I found a space where literally no one else was around and went around and around in a half-mile square until I began developing a rhythm. That’s when it hit me. I was having fun. After all this time, I finally found a winter activity that speaks to me. 

I have a long way to go before I’d consider myself “good” at cross country skiing, but it’s a sport that allows you to become reasonably proficient in a short amount of time. Here are a few tips if you’re thinking about starting: 

• Rent gear for the season if possible: Not only does having gear when you arrive at a ski center cut down on long wait times, it also gives you some familiarity with your equipment. Plus, making a financial investment at the beginning of the season provides motivation to give it an honest effort.

• Hydrate and fuel: Cross country skiing is a full body workout that burns a lot of calories and can leave you feeling dehydrated. As runners, we should be well-prepared to carry what we need. A 15 ounce soft flask and a gel stashed in a hydration pack were more than enough to get me through an hour and a half of steady skiing. 

• Bring extra snacks for the kids: Like, a lot of snacks. All the snacks you can think of, then think of some more. Their bodies are burning energy too.

• Layer like you would for a run: Your body is going to heat up once you get moving so don’t be afraid to be a little bit cold at the start. Sunglasses or goggles reduce snow glare and keep wind out of your eyes, while a Buff or balaclava will help keep your face and throat warm. 

• Know your limits: Despite my medal-winning performance on that downhill, I’m under no illusion that I can handle anything beyond the easiest terrain I can find. Even on cross country skis, it’s possible to get in way over your head in a short amount of time. So, chill.

• Always bring hot cocoa for when you’re done: Self explanatory. 

There is one contentened human.