The best thing you've ever done. Athletically.

If there's one thing that will warm your heart, it's hearing about the triumphs of my Winter Weekend.
I skied and lived to tell about it.
Complete with eyeballs intact.
Matt graciously instructed me and accompanied me up the chairlift (fear nearly conquered) to the big bunny hill. As he glided down the first few feet, I realized that all the terrors in my life could not match this instant (except possibly skiing with clowns, which will now surely give me nightmares). I was to experience that moment and that feeling over and over again all during our ski day.
Like when I ran into the trees in slow motion.
Like when I was going down a blue hill because (though I was certainly only a green-level) Matt suggested we follow this caution sign to see where it would lead.
Like when the operator had to change the speed of the lift to accomodate me and I still tipped off the seat.
I alternated between anger and tears when I began to feel threatened, spouting such explosive phrases as, "But I don't trust the inside leg," and "JUST GO ON WITHOUT ME," or the favored "I'm ready to go home! I hate this sport!!!"
But...I skied.
Thanks for not giving up on me, Matt. And thanks for letting me go home at noon.