Colorado, Part 1 -- Or, How I went from 'The Troublemaker' to the head of the class

It turns out that you can collect some pretty good stories when you go skiing for the first time. To avoid a ridiculously long blog post telling you all of those stories at once, I'll go with installments.

I signed up for beginner skiing lessons for my first full day in Colorado. The lessons began at 10:30, and our instructor gradually introduced us to the basics of skiing. It was after noon when we finally started actually skiing, with a ski on each foot, poles in hand, and headed forward on a gentle downward slope.

Our instructor had told us earlier in the day that by the end of our lesson, some of us would naturally progress to an intermediate-level skill called a "wedge christie." He didn't explain what this was, but he said he'd point it out if he saw any of us doing it.

All day I had felt like the dunce of the class. At the very beginning of our lesson, the instructor had jokingly labeled me "The Troublemaker" for having two pairs of socks on (he said a baselayer is plenty; anything more can cause chafing) and for not knowing how to remove my own boots when I decided to take off said extra pair of socks. Plus, I'm not a natural athlete, so sports never come easily for me, and I always worry too much about looking like a jackass in my attempts at learning. And I'd managed to fall 3 times in the course of the lesson.

So imagine my surprise when the instructor pointed me out -- me!!! -- as being the one who was doing the wedge christie. Score!

By 2:30 (4 hours into the lesson!), I was pretty tired. We still had about 30 to 45 minutes left. I couldn't wait to rest and relax after we were done.

That all changed once K came by to meet me. Our instructor was giving each of the 7 people in our class individual things to work on. When he got to me, he proudly told K about my natural progression to an intermediate-level skill. He told me to work on my speed and on faster turns.

My ready-to-rest attitude disappeared with my instructor's praise and my excitement to show K my new skiing skillz. We went down the bunny slope together a few times.

"Look at you!" K said proudly. "You're not even plowing!" (Plowing involves bringing the front of your skis together, forming an upside-down V, to make you go slower down the hill. Beginners often heavily rely on plowing.)

After another time or two down the ridiculously short bunny slopes (we're talking maybe 30 yards), K started mentioning the nearby green slope. "I think you're ready," he said. "You know everything you need to know to ski." He said the green slope would be like the bunny slopes, just longer.

I was definitely ready for longer [THAT'S WHAT SHE SAID!!!]. But the instructor had explicitly told us all not to tackle a green slope that day. I wasn't sure I was ready for that just yet.

A young guy working the bunny slope overheard us discussing the green slope. "It's mellow," he said.

"Really? Well, if he says it's mellow, then I guess we can try it," I said.

"Well, I mean, it's mellow compared to all the other slopes here."

His sudden disclaimer had me a bit worried, but I pushed it aside.

"OK," I said to K. "We'll give it a shot."

To find out if I went through with it, read part 2 here.