Paralysed on skis

Today I had my very first skiing lessons. Mr. M wanted to ensure that I have the perfect conditions to learn how to ski. Therefore he booked a private tutor for three hours and the ski slope in Wintermoosalm is perfect for beginners. The ski school even promises fear free skiing but I guess I am Manfred’s (my ski tutor) first total failure. After the first lesson I am not better off than before the lesson and unfortunately it would probably remain my only attempt till our next winter holiday.

Yesterday as we booked the lesson for today, I got reminded of the time I tried to learn how to rollerblade. It was during my time at the National University of Singapore. One of the student organisations offered a three day rollerblading course. I signed up together with some friends. After the three days, I was the only one, who could not rollerblade at all. Since then I have not rollerbladed and not surprisingly I have never had the urge to ice-skate either. Therefore I was apprehensive and maybe negatively poled even before I stood on the skis; a self-fulfilling prophesy one might say.

After the lesson, we had lunch at a restaurant on the slope. I tried to explain to Mr. M that I am simply not built to ski. However he was sure that the opposite would be true and offered to be my teacher in the afternoon. Therefore after lunch, we put on our skis in front of a mini bump on the way to the actual slope. But I was paralysed. I couldn’t will myself to push myself off the bump. I was so afraid that I couldn’t stop the tears from rolling down my cheeks. I admit I am not proud of it but I gave up. My crying confused and upset Mr. M. After all he was there to take me by the hand and he would not let anything happen to me.

My inaction could be construed not trusting in the protective abilities of Mr. M but in reality I did not trust myself. I was paralysed by pure fear. Sheer perspiration causing kind of fear! Not to mention that the ski outing was over for Mr. M and myself at that moment. What a waste of money on me!

Later I analysed my behaviour and tried to find an explanation for my fear. Was I afraid of dying? We all have to die and nothing is more certain at our birth other than that someday we will die. Like a game of Russian roulette, the game we call Life ends with death. There are two ways to play Russian roulette. One is by spinning the barrel before each shot, where the probability of death remains the same with each trigger. The other is by spinning the barrel only once and with each turn the probability of death increase. The probability percentage depends on the number of bullets the barrel can hold. If life were a game of Russian roulette, would skiing increase the possibility of me dying? The logical part of me tells me that the chances of me dying from an accident at home are just as low. Therefore there is no logical reason for me to be afraid of skiing and I don’t think that it is the reason for my fear.

Am I afraid of the pain of potential injuries then? Not really. I pull out hairs by the roots by myself in the name of beauty. Thus I am not really afraid of pain. Furthermore I know that there are painkillers one can take to relieve pain.
If I am honest to myself, I have to admit that I am afraid of the speed. I have a paradoxical relationship with speed. I absolutely detest driving but during the time I drove to work, I was speeding most of the time. My logic is kind of twisted. I sped because I would reach my destination faster and my driving escapade is kept at the minimal duration. But I do not like the feeling of the ground speeding under feet faster than I can normally walk. I think my skiing experience is over before it even it started, if something doesn’t change. Maybe my fear would dissipate miraculously.

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