First Time on Skis

I don’t remember the first time I went skiing—I think it was when I was a child in Michigan. We didn’t really get into skiing as a family until we lived in Norway; while there, we went skiing every weekend (whether it be downhill or cross country). But, after we left Norway, we had very brief stints in Michigan and Illinois (my dad was military)—too brief to ever ski, and then we moved to Arizona, so skiing became increasingly more difficult to do.

When I first met Andy, he would tell me about how he basically lived on the mountains in Vermont. That first Christmas we were together, he outfitted me in boots and skis and took me to the bunny hill. I was terrified—it had been about 15 years since I had been on skis. I have since grown to love skiing—I will never be the best one out on the mountain, but I have come leaps and bounds since that first run with Andy. 

Andy, on the other hand, is magnificent—he is almost poetic. I make him wait at the top so I can ski down, just so I can turn to watch him come down the hill. He is so fluid and effortless, and I get immense pride and satisfaction in watching him ski.

Andy always maintained it would be a great activity to do when we had a family. And, he was right. We took Alex out on skis for the first time this past week. We had a blast! We found a great little hill just an hour outside of NYC at West Point—it is only open to the public on Fridays, and it is a gem. It was perfect for what we were looking for, as it had a bunny hill (and a bigger hill so Andy and I could take a few solo runs). 

Video links:

• Alex’s first run – from Andy’s perspective (with his awesome new camera for Christmas).
• Alex’s first run – from my perspective.

The lodge 

Getting ready for his first run. 

The J-bar didn’t thrill him—he is not too excited to be skiing right here. 

Once he got going, though, he had fun. 

Little break with mom after his first run. 

Back at it. 

Alex only went skiing for about 30 minutes; after that, we enjoyed a hot dog in the lodge. When everyone was done skiing, we headed home, stopping for pizza. It was a magical day, and both Andy and I were counting our blessings!