Utah

My Face For Brakes

“The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph. What we obtain too cheap, we esteem too lightly; it is dearness only that gives everything its value. I love the man that can smile in trouble, that can gather strength from distress and grow.”

- Thomas Paine

Learning to snowboard is like running with a parachute. One second you feel like you’re flying, the next you feel like an idiot.

The advantage of living in a “ski town” during the winter, only comes when the winter brings snow. Otherwise, you’re just cold, wet, and miserable. However, if you lived in Park City, Utah during the Winter of 2007-2008, a winter wonderland would be an understatement. By most accounts, it was a record year. It felt like every other day was a powder day, which can be difficult if you have to go to work and stare outside as the snow falls wondering if it’s too late to “call in sick”. Yet, on the days I was learning to snowboard, the snow was more than a gift, it was Wrestle Mania on a king sized bed full of comforters and pillows. Fall, roll, or flip. Get up and go again.

One snowy night, the Park City Mountain Resort opened their night skiing with lights along a couple runs. If you own a ski resort, this is good way to earn a few extra bucks, and for a young man, it’s a brilliant way to spend a night learning to snowboard and drink beer.

This was my second time snowboarding (closing in on an expert). However, tonight I was graduating to longer, more advanced runs; while carrying a couple beers in my coat pockets. By the way, full twelve-ounce beer cans feel great to fall on after an abrupt, uncontrollably stop, specifically onto groomed ski runs. (For those who don’t know what a “groomed ski run” is, just think of well manicured ice. Not as flat and hard but not far from it)

My friend, who was the genius behind turning this ‘lovely’ snowy evening into a new excuse to drink, had been snowboarding for years. So his expertise was very helpful in my development toward not falling every ten feet. Not too long after we started, my confidence grew, and I moved pretty well and having fun despite my incompetence.

After several trips up and down, we went up one last time before they closed for the night. We ended the night toasting to our last run with one last beer at the top then we would take our route through the woods to where we lived. Oh yeah! Not only did we luck out living in Utah during a record year of snow, but we found an apartment close to the slopes. (don’t worry we got through it.)

As we descended down the mountain, away from the fully-lit run, there came a moment of serenity and calm. For a brief second, it stopped snowing, the clouds parted, and only the moon illuminated the scene around us. My thoughts, conscious and present, as we carved through open terrain full of fresh snow untouched and undisturbed. My eyes consumed by the lights below, the stars above, and the mountains beyond. I was experiencing something new and pure. Completely forgetting I was on a snowboard and feeling like I was experiencing the closest thing to flying.

Then just as unworldly as the moment was, we turned the corner and my heart jumped to my throat, as we stared into the bright lights of a large snowcat (the snow version of a bulldozer) heading right for us. My buddy, a few feet in front of me, dropped into the woods with ease, shredding through deep snow and dodging trees like he had night vision goggles on. I, on the other hand, didn’t react as gracefully. I turned downhill into the trees picking up speed, slapping a couple of branches along the way, then to keep myself from feeling ‘too’ out of control, I’d stop with a face plant. I would struggle to get up, sometimes with a roll or tumble, some over small trees, some into trees not so small. As I groaned my way to the bottom, I could hear my buddy, occasionally giving me directions but mostly laughing.

This little excursion lasted about fifteen minutes, but it felt like over an hour as I bumped, crawled, grasped, dug, and eventually walked my way out of the thick forest. Finishing with my friend waiting for me on the other side still laughing like he got it all on video.

At the end, I was exhausted and little sore, but beyond that, I was smiling.

Fun doesn’t always come in a clean package. More than likely, it comes in the opposite, full of unknowns and falls. In the end, we won’t know if it was worth it by expecting a certain result. Experiences like these remind me a difficult but simple truth: Fun is found in the hard, even the fall because it humbles you and reminds you of the pleasure of being human.