“Since we’re over here let’s catch this lift,” Chase suggested.
“No.” I drew the word out for convincing purposes. “It will be all blacks.”
“Oh come on, that isn’t true. You are killing blue runs.”
“Fine.”
He’s right. I got this. And he wouldn’t really take me on a black run. But also the first time he took me out here he said I’d only need sunglasses which was a tearful mess of stupid. No, no. I got this.

Heavy from the weight of boots and boards we dangled our feet with relief above the slopes. I held tight to my phone knowing I’d already dropped a glove while taking a double selfie. Not smart. I’ll admit.

“Aren’t the kids doing amazing?”
“It’s so cute to see them in their gear.”
“Hey, do you have those snacks I packed?”

We bounced each time our chair passed a pole. The rolling noise of the cables reminded me of those interlocking gears I sometimes see before movies.

As the shack at the top came near, I wiggled and scooted to match the timing. I waited…and waited…and waited too long. What was to be an easy slide onto the mountain became a cockeyed mess of ski poles and hair.

“How are you going to get down? You know these are black runs,” said the attendant.
Or you could ask if I’m still in one piece and stop the lift so I don’t get pulped into a pile. But please, tell me more about how you think I’m a lost fool.
“Isn’t there a blue?” And why is no one helping me up? 
“Stay to that side. Whatever you do, don’t head back here.”
Yeah. I know. I saw those freaks with the moguls and crap. Just, sh.

I got my bearings and ignored the wedgie while Chase strapped his other foot to his board.
I’m ready. I’m gonna show them all how I can take this run. 

And then we got to the first hill. I checked from one side to the other for a way down and nearly peed my pants. This was it. This was the way. My only option.
Chase was already down. I could see him, barely, waving me to stay sideways. Which was great because that was my plan anyway. I felt like the kid at the swimming pool learning to take his first dive by himself. All swelled belly and dorky goggles, unable to move because the water keeps looking bigger and more shark-infested.

Kay. Don’t think. Just go. You can go. Go. 

Slip by little slip I eased down as everyone else flew dangerously around me. Soon my calves were burning. Burning, I tell you. I took a minute to breathe and rest, and noticed Chase pointing again. More angled. More…down.

He’s right. I’ll just, yeah. A little faster. I began slowly, striding in chapters and then resting until suddenly I was falling again. Snow came at my eyes like a blizzard, into my jacket at the neck, and smacking my face. I couldn’t see anything as I held my breath and reached with my poles and boots for some sort of grounding. That’s all I was thinking. Dig with heels. Try the poles. Eventually I stopped in a heap, exasperated and relieved.

“Oh babe! I’m so sorry.” Don’t think I didn’t detect the snicker in his throat.
“I just,” I said starting to cry. “I can’t do that!”
He laughed. “I know it, I’m so sorry.”
“I, I didn’t know if I would stop and it scared me.”
“You lost a ski.”
“I did?” I looked up Mt. Everest in time to see a sweet man with graceful precision halt where my ski lay. It was easy for him, the way he swaggered over to us.
“Thank you very much.”

We sat there for several minutes while my tears dried at the lip of my goggles. I breathed full, taking in the scene with more respect.

“You ready?”
“I’m ready.”

I bet Kenzie has cried today too. I’m so having a beer tonight.