Fear Lies

Yesterday I told my friend Pam that I would ski with her today. Then I made a blog post about it to force myself to go through with it. I did not want to ski today, or really ever again. Last year I had a spectacularly bad time trying to ski when I was over tired and then headed down a too-difficult run. I made myself go back the next day, but that reasonably good run might as well never have happened.

As soon as I said I would go, I began to panic. My brain ran through every possible scenario that ended up with me exhausted, hurt, unable to breathe, embarrassed, and sorry I had tried to ski again. I put off getting ready until the last possible moment this morning. Evans went with me to pick up my skis and get my boots on. He was a great sport since he would have loved to have been skiing himself. I was short, hateful and unreasonable. He did not kill me.

Sooner than I wanted I met my friend Pam and we headed to the lift. I was literally stiff with fear. I hurt all over and we had yet to ski ten feet. We came off the lift and headed to the top of the easiest run. Everything was going fine except the chatter in my brain that Would. Not. Turn. Off. The more I tried to focus on keeping my knees bent and traversing down the mountain, the more my mind raced with all the things that were certain to go wrong. Nothing went wrong.

It was a glorious day. The runs were perfect. The sky could not have been more blue. There were no crowds. We weren’t cold. And I was skiing fine. About half way down the mountain I finally realized that everything was going ok. When we got to the bottom, Pam asked if I wanted to go again and, truthfully this time, I said I did.

Pam is a gifted and experienced skier. She can handle the most difficult of the slopes, places I will never see. On peak days she teaches little children to ski as her “retirement” job. It is really her ministry. Today I was the “little child” who was blessed by her patience, instruction and skill.

Today I did more than remember how to ski. I remembered that fear lies, and it is very good at it. Fear knows my weaknesses and inflates and highlights them until they are all I can see. None, not a single one, of the horrible scenarios that ran through my head happened. I did not fall. I never got short of breath. My legs worked just fine. I skied as well as I ever have and certainly better than I expected.

After we had skied both familiar and new runs, we decided to call it a day. There is a lot to be said for quitting when you are ahead. My biggest nemesis is the last descent into the base area. It is steep. I don’t even like looking at it and I have never willingly skied it. Pam asked if I was ready to face my last fear.

I followed her as we started down. This time I shut out the chatter in my head. I told myself, out loud, to just do the next thing. To keep my skis parallel. To make wide turns. I never looked beyond the tips of my skis although I could see Pam in my peripheral vision. In no time at all we were at the base area.

Fear lies, but truth wins. It is not enough to do it afraid. I have to put the fear where it belongs, which is under my skis, and slide right over it. I am skiing again on Friday. I am not afraid.