So Easy an Ostrich Can Do It

The one thing I seemed to forget to put on my bucket list was to go skiing in some point of my virtually insignificant life. I’ve always been scared to do it, not that I don’t think I can do it or learn how, it has to be more of a “you might die” scenario that plays in my head like the ones where you expect to be rejected by a cute girl…or guy depending on your orientation.

I’m not that into sports as it is, thanks to my terrifying experience with football in my 7th grade year. At that time I was 105 pounds, considered scanty for the team, and possibly the guy with the smallest frame in the city (for my age); thrown into the gridiron to compete against 300 pound gorillas that, if ethically acceptable, could easily crush my rib-cage with one hand in some chest-pounding ritual. I learned my place was behind a desk, writing or troubleshooting computers for poor people with head-trauma. (Related to the sport or not…)

However I don’t see myself as a statue and I enjoy the warm sun on my flesh. I participate in many activities such as volleyball, occasional soccer matches, baseball, and swimming, but anything other than that I haven’t had the chance to actually learn.
(I would be eternally grateful if Ryan Sheckler would expose the art of skateboarding to my conscientiousness.)
Among those are winter sports snowboarding and skiing. I don’t want to become the next Shawn White (Is his last name a mere coincidence?), all I want is to prove that I can do it; that I can survive the treacherous slopes of  Mt. Snowytops everywhere. It would be fun and something to do before my years can be numbered on a hand.

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