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“How am I supposed to walk in these?” I asked.
“You don’t.”
“Because I have to clomp like Godzilla crushing all the running city folk?”
“Because you’re going to slide your feet.” He sighed. “Move slowly and keep your skis parallel. Avoid crossing them.”
“Summon my inner penguin and waddle.”
He seemed to consider a moment, his dark eyes glossing with a distant look. “Yes, do that.”
My ankle almost immediately twisted as the skis caught on one another. Gabriel caught my arm, steadying me.
“It takes some getting used to,” he said. “The boots are rigid for proper support. Try to remember, wherever your shoulders go, your hips and feet should follow.”
I visualized keeping my upper body and lower body aligned as I took a few more penguin glides. I mimicked the motion he did with his poles.
“Much better,” Gabriel said. “Let’s continue in this direction, toward the bunny slope lift.”
Given my current speed, it would take ten point two years to reach the lift, which was all right with me, because that meant not tumbling down the hill head first and bruising my brain.
Gabriel stayed next to me, keeping my pace, but making it look way easier. “The most important thing is learning how to stop.” Gabriel said patiently.
“Stop? I'm not even sure I can start.”
I could swear, for a fraction of a second, I saw a glint of amusement dance across his eyes.
“Gravity will take care of that part,” he said. “While going down the hill, you’ll create wedge shape with your skis."
He demonstrated bringing the tips of his skis together into a pizza slice.
I imitated the motion, though it felt awkward trying to finagle my feet and skis into that position. “I thought you said never to do this. Won’t the skis just crisscross and make me trip over myself?”
“No.”
“If you say so.”
Somehow, eventually we made it to the lift.
On the way up, looking down, this hill seemed mostly flat, flatter than the one we’d taken tubing. The other patrons of this level were all small children, also like yesterday’s tubing excursion.
“The slope is likely to be choppier than higher difficulty slopes” Gabriel said.
“Then why start here?”
“For practice.”
We hopped off the machine.
“To maintain a decelerated rate down the slope, carving to the side will help, versus aiming straight down,” Gabriel said.
“Makes sense.”
A small child raced past, nearly knocking me over. And all of a sudden I wasn’t so sure this was going to be fun.
“Maybe we should go tubing again instead,” I said.
“Let’s make it to the bottom first, then if you’re still ready to quit, we’ll quit.”
