With the Winter Olympic going on right now in Vancouver and Whistler, I cannot help but reminisce my first time ever snowboarding — in fact it was my first time skiing. I was sitting on top of Blackcomb Mountain in Whistler and had fallen thirty times in a row and went about five feet.
This is my frustrated view of the beautiful mountain. I never did give up. At some point, I decided to never fall again. I kept that promise to myself by pinwheeling my way down the mountain. I never felt so much relief when I reached the bottom of the run.
I was battered the next morning, but proud. It bruising gave me a greater appreciation for those flying mach 3 on a thin fiberglass plank.
The honorable mentions go to the afternoon of the same day dining around Whistler sans skis. The restaurant owning all the champagne, the Bearfoot Bistro, is famous in the area and one of the best restaurants in all of Canada.
I give you mucho respect for even attempting…saw one of my sons take a big fall on one of our puny Illinois ‘mountains’ and thought he broke every bone in his body.
I don’t think he’s the next Shaun White…no way. But I’ll let him believe that he is.
I think I have been on the same ghill in the same. I don’t think I ever made it to the bottom
I think the attempt falls into the “poor planning” category more than anything else.
Then how the heck did you make it off of the mountain? I just kept going because I thought I would be stranded there forever.