Worthy Destinations: Snowboarding as Jo(e)
Most snowboard-related writing on the Internet is drivel. (For that matter, so are most of the magazines!) Some of it, though, is written with style and skill. Take a look, for example, at the blog Writing as Jo(e). Great photos accompany this well-written blog. Of course, Jo(e) ought to write well; she teaches college students how to write.
Most of the time, Jo(e)’s blog isn’t about snowboarding. She writes about her job, family, friends, travels, and on occasion, her adventures on a snowboard. Unfortunately, Jo(e) doesn’t use labels or tags on her posts, so you can’t bring all of her snowboard-related posts into one spot.
Until now. Here are links to Jo(e)’s snowboarding blog posts, complete with excerpts.
Season begins
We are lucky to live within 25 miles of a good ski slope. Winters can be long here – it will be a months before I again feel sunshine against my bare legs – but spending at least one whole day outside in the fresh air every weekend does wonders for the winter blues.
Bonding through Boarding
“I think every part of my body hurts,” I said to my daughter.
Promoted
Suddenly, I found myself in the position of snowboard instructor. Anyone who read my post about snowboarding from last weekend will see the irony in this situation.
About snowboarding Sunday
Coming down the mountain with my right foot in front was much easier. (Apparently I am goofy. Who would have thought?) And getting my body to move the right way was possible because I had figured it out in my head.
Mostly ice
I know that ski lodges in movies have comfy furniture, and fireplaces, and hot tubs, and sometimes famous actors wearing tap shoes, but our ski lodge is nothing like that.
Inside the ski lodge
I know that some of these parents are afraid. They are afraid of getting hurt. They are afraid that their kids will get hurt. They don’t understand the appeal of the ski slope. And yet despite their fears, they listened when their kids begged for snowboard lessons and scraped together the hundred bucks for the six-week program.
Soft snow at last
The great thing about rain is that most people don’t like it. And they go home. For the rest of the day, there were no lines at all at the chairlift. And I didn’t mind boarding in the rain. I’ve always liked hiking and canoeing in the rain, and this was no different.
Crowding the table
When we returned to the table, teenagers had gathered around it, drawn to the cooler and bag of food the way buzzards are drawn to roadkill.
Crossing over
What I’ve found, after five Sundays of snowboard lessons, is that I really like snowboarding. It’s easier on my knees than skiing. And once I made it past the difficult first lesson, I’ve been able to learn pretty fast. I like the movement, the balancing, the speed.
Fresh air and sunshine
It’s always wonderful when your student not only learns the basics of what you are teaching, but catches your love of what you are doing.
On a cold and wintry night
Snowboarding in the dark is an exhilarating experience. Breathing in the icy air of a winter night woke my whole body, the coldness tingling through me. … By the time we drove home, making our way through dark country roads, we were all pleasantly tired from taking run after run. And the frustrating situation with the car had long been forgotten.
Icy winds
It was the kind of day when you make sure your helmet meets your goggles, your goggles meet your face mask, your face mask meets your neck gaiter, and your neck gaiter gets tucked into your coat.
Snowboarding drunk
I tell them that more snowboarding injuries happen when you are tired. And I have statistics to back that up. Most injuries happen on the last run of the day. The kids scoff at this information. Boy in Black explained to me patiently, “Of course, the injury happens on the last run of the day. Because once you’ve got a broken wrist, you aren’t likely to take another run.”
Injured
I got injured getting off the chair lift. Yes. Possible the lamest injury in the history of snowboarding. … For the record, this did count as a snowboarding injury, even if I wasn’t exactly snowboarding when it happened. I mean, my leg would not have twisted in that bizarre fashion if it wasn’t attached to a snowboard.
Jo(e) Athlete
I kept badgering him to help me come up with a rule of thumb so that I would know when I could snowboard again. Finally, he said, “Okay, if you can run up and down a flight of stairs without pain, you are ready to snowboard again.”
Healing
By the middle of this week, I came to the realization that despite all the wonderful snow we’ve gotten this week, I am not going to be able to snowboard this weekend.
Almost
For the last two months, I’ve been conscious, every day, almost every minute, of my right knee, a body part that, to be honest, I don’t usually spend much time thinking about.
Healing
And finally, spring is here. Well, almost here. I’ve still got snow in my yard. But gradually, the knee has gotten better. It doesn’t wake me up at night any more, it doesn’t hurt when I bend it, and mostly, I no longer even think about it. I can run up and down the stairs without pain.
Stretching
The injury had healed but I guess the pain had gotten me into the bad habit of not using my leg, of dragging it about like a phantom limb. The healing, I realized, was not finished. So every morning now, I sit on the floor and put the bottoms of my feet together and start stretching out those leg muscles.
Ready
We are not a household that spends much money on clothing, but I will spend money on good outerwear.
Headed to the chair
The good news is the my knee is fully recovered, and I have no lingering fear of snowboarding. The bad news is that I am terrified of the damned chair lift. A chair lift, I keep explaining to anyone who will listen, is designed for someone wearing skis.
Invincible
With my right foot strapped in and my left foot on the stomp pad, I coasted away from the chair lift and stopped in a patch of new snow. When I finally took a breath, I could feel all kinds of adrenaline surging through my bloodstream.
Student/Teacher
We took three runs that day (the lessons are an hour and a half long), and he did fine as an instructor, giving me compliments every time I stopped, just as I had told him to. He seemed puzzled by the number of teenagers who kept yelling my name from the chairlift — or waving to me as they went by. “It seems like everyone here knows you,” he said.
Cold
We’ve figured out how to turn sideways and step off, but then as we go boarding down the ramp, which has been icy and fast, we are only inches away from each other. My self-defensive snowboarding instinct is apparently stronger than my maternal instinct because every time, without even being conscious that I’m doing it, I reach out with both hands and shove my daughter out of the way. “Your own daughter!” Drama Niece said in mock horror, the first time she watched us.
The right kind of snow
When I woke up this morning, my first thought was that it would be a great day to stay home by the fire and eat the party leftovers that Quilt Artist had sent home with me. Luckily, the thought was fleeting. And we arrived at the ski slopes just as the chair lifts were beginning to operate.
The whiteness of the squall
By the time we drove home, several hours later, the winds had died down somewhat, although we had to drive around drifts of snow that hadn’t yet been plowed. The power company had emergency crews out everywhere, tying up the power lines that had come down. I felt sorry for the people who had been safely inside their houses for the squall, who didn’t get to experience its full power.