The weekend goal: stay alive.

I’ve tumbled, landed on my knees (on the wonderful spot where I skinned my knee earlier this week), landed on my butt, eaten snow.

Around me, people speeding by effortlessly. Teens. Kids. Pros. Kids with GoPros.

It’s not my first time on a snowboard (in fact… my fifth. Oh god. Like I learned nothing tumbling down the snowy mountains in Japan!) I just need more practice. But look at that baby slope! So easy. (Easier said than done!)

I stop to appreciate the view after the nth tumble. For a second I’m wishing for a nice warm cup of coffee, a fireplace, and a window. This view!

One more round, I think. All my cousins are on the pro slopes and have gone on at least four more rounds; I’m taking it easy and trying to practice—no pressure.

Up until I take a really rough tumble, landing on my back and tailbone and I can’t move for a good three seconds before the pain registers. On my butt, up my back, going up my head.

You’re done, my brain says. My body agrees but it can hardly move.

I hear a swoosh and a guy stops beside me. The sun is in my eyes but I think he looks concerned. “Hey, are you okay?”

“I think,” I answer, pretending I’m totally fine and this is nothing and I can totally get up but I can’t.

I do, eventually (thankfully), pick up my board and walk down the rest of the way.

Pain. All over. In muscles I didn’t even know could hurt this much. Good thing I had practice landing on my butt.

Once back at the lodge, some quiet time to think. Work, thesis stuff, sketches to finish. Yeah, I’d rather go to grad school than tumble down snowy mountains.

At least the view when you land is pretty amazing!