Skiing success=not dying whilst sliding down big hills


I had absolutely zero interest in skiing after moving to Switzerland. I’m not paticularly good with adrenaline and my wrists are so feeble they could break just from looking at them. But last summer I took the plunge and bought a load of ski gear in a sports sale. It was 34 degrees and I was trying on thermals but it was the commitment to the cause I needed. The first 2 experiences were utterly horrendous. My first episode was in a blizzard on a steep blue run with a sheet drop to my right whilst my friends repeatedly shouted PIZZA at me from a distance. The second time I strapped skis to my feet I had flu and it was the last weekend of the season so it was glorified sunbathing in slush.


Third time lucky for the first weekend of the season this year. I gritted my teeth and donned my shiny new gear and went for it…wholeheartedly. I spent a great deal of time building up my confidence in my own physical ability in India and it paid off. I can actually ski, somewhat competently too. Granted I was still practising with toddlers but I wasn’t on my arse or hiding on a sun lounger. It is exhausting trying to stay alive on compacted ice when toddlers are flying past you and women are carrying babies up the piste. A 30th birthday ski lodge apres ski in a strong blizzard dressed as a unicorn is the only answer for exhaustion. I think this year is finally the year at the tender age of 27 that I’m going to nail skiing. Famous last words. Bring on more snow!

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