“She has been skiing since she was four years old. She’s twelve now. “She should be better than her sisters!” My husband would lament season after season. There were weekends we weren’t sure if she was cut out for skiing, but she never said she didn’t want to go, so we all kept going, as a family.
For the past eight years, Megan has been comfortable skiing the blue intermediate trails. She has consistently been bit of a conditions snob. Fresh powder, loosely groomed, temps in the high twenties low thirties are ideal for her. She preferred skiing on trails she knew and was comfortable on. Every now and then, when conditions were prime, we got her to tackle a more challenging trail. But really, after eight years, even I was beginning to wonder.
Then, on the eve of my husbands 50th birthday, something happened.
“Look at her go!” I can see the sparkle of pride in his eyes.
We stood atop a black diamond trail and watched as Megan, without hesitation, just went. No whining, no questions, no pouty faces. She went down that trail like she was walking down the road. It had been building for the past two weeks.
“Aren’t you glad you didn’t give up on her?” I joked.
We really don’t know what happened.
Was it that she just turned twelve? Was it that she had settled into middle school? Was it that she had skied with her good friend the weekend before? Was it confidence in her new found love of horses?
My husband and I contemplated all this and decided we’d never know the exact ingredients that went into Megan, “The Skier”.
“Take it in honey. That is the best birthday present you could ask for!”
I watched as my husband smiled, nodded, and followed Megan down Castlerock Run.