There are two things I’m not very experienced with.
Skiing and West Virginia.
So it seems counter-intuitive that this past weekend, I ventured to Snowshoe, West Virginia to ski. With 20+ strangers.
(That last part seems more like me.)
It’s not that I have anything against West Virginia – I just haven’t spent a significant amount of time there.
Also, I don’t ski. Ask my third grade Girl Scout Troop leader that I (unintentionally) dragged off a ski-lift. She was out of work for three months, I waited until Junior High to revisit the idea of skiing… (an interest that didn’t last long).
But the idea of being completely out of my element, surrounded by people I don’t know – was catnip, as Annabel would say. I felt it was a bit reminiscent of my New Years adventure, though as I tumbled down a hill of snow and ice, I had my doubts.
Doubts that were eliminated by a chorus of friendly voices complimenting me on my surprisingly graceful completion.
I was honestly really nervous to go on this trip. Aside from my lack of experience with skiing and WV, I was painfully shy growing up. The shyness inspired a lack of confidence, that followed me to junior high and high school, where I was never popular, and always just a little awkward.
Come college, I forced myself to make drastic changes. I took more chances with every part of my life – figuring that I had nothing to lose. I surrounded myself with people that were focused on fun and ambition.
Eventually, I came into my own.
But as the ski weekend approached, that same shy, awkward girl whispered insecurities about meeting new people. I did my best to ignore her, resisting the urge to make the experience more comfortable by inviting friends. I was determined to force myself to survive an unfamiliar environment.
The discomfort dissipated when I met Allie – the girl I had agreed to drive up with Friday afternoon. Along with friendly, chipper Allie was Kim – a bubbly, near doppelganger of my co-worker Alyson – and her boyfriend, Josh.
We spent over six hours in the car talking about anything we could think of.
(With a brief recess for Josh and I to nap, during which Allie accidentally re-directed herself back to Virginia.)
If I had gone to West Virginia skiing alone (which I definitely considered, in lieu of paying for a group trip), I still would have spent half the day on my ass. I still would have spent time journaling, hiking, and convincing myself that despite a few tumbles, I could be a good skier.
But instead, I spent half the day on my ass with Chris – who shouted questions about me between downhill tumbles. I played games with Allie, Kayla, Topher, Travis and Andrew, excelling at pairing ridiculous drawing prompts with even more ridiculous doodles. Most importantly, when I did feel a touch awkward, I immediately was greeted by the trip coordinator Courtney, offering to lend me ski googles, Kim, inviting me to join her and Josh skiing, or another member of the group that seemed to sense that I was a little nervous.
I eventually gained confidence in my skiing – (followed by physical exhaustion that would have been much worse if I hadn’t been going to the Y), and comfort in the company of kind, enthusiastic strangers. So let me skip the part where I clearly spell out the clichés, and just say this – more often than not, risk is worth a little discomfort.
And occasionally, being pelted by perfect snowballs.