Trust the board

My body has a better memory than me.

Since hurting my ankle over three years ago, I've only been back on the snowboard twice (Scottish snow is fickle, but unreliable). Last week, I was convinced I would finally learn my way around the slopes: I had time, nothing else to do, and the Alps all around.

For the first few days I kept finding interesting new aches and pains, but did not advance at all. Frustrated (Laura the Board was very close to ending up as toothpicks), I took a private class with ski-school-teacher-cum-philosopher Charles: "Don't think. You think too much. Don't think. Just follow the board." Repeat for two hours. But it was exactly what I needed, and on the last day I must have spent at least almost as much time upright than on my (very sore) bum.

Only back home did I realize where I had been stuck: trying to re-learn the same stuff I was practising when I injured myself. I was fighting against myself. No wonder I could not just do it, even though I knew exactly what I wanted to do. Instead I froze, and fell.

The "don't think - trust the board" attitude would help in pretty much all my problems outside the slopes as well. Maybe I should get a wee tattoo of Charles to remind me?

(I also found out that I have a very resilient skull. It can handle constant pounding against both figurative walls and very material icy slopes - but not disabling myself in the last crack was sheer beginner's luck. I shall never, ever snowboard without a helmet again.)

(PS. Reading this, I get a feeling I might have a masochistic streak, too. But snowboarding is really fun. Honest.)