Learning How to Ski...Again.

It's safe to say I haven't touched a downhill ski in maybe 15 years. As well, my cross country skiing tailbone injury is still a little sensitive. What if I fall? This is an ominous predicament when you live in the Alps. How can I return to the States without enjoying the local slopes? The fear should be conquered. It must.

Or maybe I'm just thinking about it too much. Stop being such a sissy. Skiing could be like riding a bike - just get on and it'll all come back...right?

Well, kind of.

Last Sunday Opa, Oma, Noah and I jammed ourselves, and our skis, into a Passat for the six or seven minute hump up the adjacent mountain from our house to one of the local ski resorts. This one is more of a "children's" ski resort. Well ok, not really a ski "resort" per se. It's more of a little hill with a T-bar lift and a shack where you pay your 4 Euro lift ticket. Perfect for Noah and...um...me.

Noah, our three year old, had just finished his preschool ski class the week before and it was time to check out his moves. He's still a little too young to carve the powder but did just fine in the packed stuff. Just point him where you want him to go, and he'll probably get there. Fun stuff!

Oh, and daddy did ok too. The day started off being dragged through the snow by the T-bar lift, but I recovered. The rest of the day was slow and easy. Not quite like getting back on a bike, but close enough.