Ski Lessons

I am a Texan. I was born in Texas. I was raised in Texas. Prior to moving to the UK I'd lived 29 of my 30 years, in Texas. And while there are many things a Texan can point to being known for, skiing isn't really one of them. In fact, I can count on one hand the number of ski seasons I've participated in my life.

My parents took me with the family when I was two and again when I was five. Apparently, I was much better at two then I was at five as we didn't go again until I was engaged 18 years later. And frankly I wasn't any good then either. Then for Christmas in 2013 Amanda and I went to Switzerland and I attempted to ski there as well. Didn't even make it down the mountain! At the time I had essentially decided that the sport just wasn't for me and figured I'd never see the slopes again.

Fast forward about a decade. It's winter in the Alps and our coworkers start asking us where we plan on taking our ski holiday this season and what school are we going to put the girls in. At first I politely indicate that skiing and I haven't gotten along in the past and none of my girls have shown much of an interest in learning yet so we would probably sit this season out. Generally this was met with a long pause, knowing grin and some statement along the lines of "okay, well you know it's easier to learn the younger you are." And after about the 50th conversation that we'd had like this Amanda and I finally decided that if we might as well see if Charlotte would like it.

So we found a local ski school (and by local, I mean two mountain tops to the south of where we live) that still had openings for children and signed her up for 6 weekends of lessons from mid January through the last week of February. Every Saturday for six weeks Charlotte and I would go spend 6 hours (4 in lessons and 2 for lunch) on the mountain together while Amanda and Olivia lived their best hot chocolate & gipfeli (Swiss version of a croissant) lives.

The first day of lessons started off with a warm-up song to get everyone in the right mood.

And it was probably a great idea because they spent the next 45 minutes essentially learning how to fall properly and then get back up.

But by the end of the days lesson most of the class had advanced to moving around on one ski.

The second week was cold. But the kids fought through it and were now on both ski's and starting to move!

If the second week was cold the third was freezing! As evidence by the parents huddled behind the ski shack to stay out of the wind!

But at times it was also quite beautiful.

When we weren't getting distracted.

But the class was continuing to improve, becoming proficient at turning and stopping.

By this point in the calendar, we are halfway through our lessons and while Charlotte is getting better, I'm getting significantly colder watching her. So Amanda and I talked and I decide to give skiing one last honest shot. So during the morning session of the fourth week, I had my own lesson to take. And while I'm no Alberto Tomba (I don't have the hair after all) it went much better than I anticipated! Maybe I'm going to like this after all.

When my lesson is over I ski back to Charlotte's training area and we go for lunch in our normal spot. This has become my absolute favorite time of the week during ski season. Charlotte and I walk over to a little chalet that serves pizza and schnitzel named Gitziholl and spend 2 hrs just talking and eating! It's warm inside, the food is okay and the prices are decent but nothing in the world beats this!

At the end of the fourth week I have her show me how she's doing and the progress to my untrained eye is significant.

The next two weeks go by very quickly with Charlotte continuing her lessons while I practice on one of the long green runs. And then it's time for the competition. At the end of the 6 week course all of the different classes come together for a slalom competition with the kids competing against their peers. As we made our way over to the slope Charlotte tells me she's had a lot of fun but is very nervous about the race so I reassure her that everything will be fine and that no matter the outcome of the race she has learned a new skill she can continue to build on and take with her for life. I'm not sure she fully comprehends how proud I am of her but then I don't know if I could put it into words anyway. And then the race happens!

And she gets the results!

And while winning was the objective and we would have learned from a different result there is no question that seeing a child succeed at something they want to be good at is an entirely different level of joy. And now we have well and truly caught the bug!

...some of us in different ways than others...