Yesterday, I was meant to be out snowboarding with David, only I chickened out. I'd like to say that I chose skiing over boarding as a selfless jester to my husband. He had this grand idea that it would be a ton of fun to spend the day out on the slopes together. I, on the other hand, knew that his enthusiasm would be short lived if I were on a snowboard. I knew that the reality was more likely to be me maneuvering slopes on my behind for the greater part of the day. Not much fun for either of us.
In the end, my choice was a good one, skiing. While he spent much of the day at the bottom of intermediate runs waiting for me, he was happy to at least get in some good "ripping" time and I was proud to be off the bunny slopes.
It was cute to see him proud of me.Not even my near tears as we ascended 200 feet above the snowy slopes on the chair lift seemed to waver his pride. It was scary up there and to think that only a bar kept me from tumbling down to near certain death. Yes, death!
I'm most thankful he didn't hear me praying or repeating my mantra of "you can do it" the entire way down the slopes.
None the less, I did it and I pushed myself. Who cares if I can barely turn my head after somersaulting in fresh powder. In spite of David's pride I'm a little embarrassed by my cowardly behavior but I survived and in the end that's really all I care about.