I was greeted by an email this morning from an old friend who wanted to invite me to go snowboarding next weekend. I thought it was a nice gesture and it took me by surprise because we haven't corresponded in a long time. My instincts told me to investigate the possible motives behind such an invitation at this time of year, and also because our last conversation didn't end well. I knew something wicked was being planned the moment I checked the forecast and realized that there was no chance of snow on the mountain at this time of year. I think this "friend" was going to attempt to leave me on a mountain trail to fend for myself. I don't have to worry about that now since I'm wise to the plan. I declined by writing that I was going to be involved in a small-scale corporate takeover that weekend. I never travel far without my sat phone anyway, so I could have always called in an AcMo Air Drop emergency supply package if I had been stuck on the mountain.
The invitation did cause me to reminisce about the day I conquered a mountain and learned to snowboard. All of the pain returned to my bones and joints as well. It felt as if I was back on the mountain being pummeled by the ice again. I had spent the entire morning in the worst possible conditions for a beginner. It was cold--below freezing as a matter of fact--and the ground was hard packed with ice. With the exception of my amazing Burton snowboarding jacket, I was not prepared for the conditions. I looked good though, and that's what mattered. The board's edges--not that I knew how to use them--couldn't cut through the ice, and every time I tried to carve it ended in disaster. I blame my initial failures on the ice's disobedience.
"It's not how many times you fall down, but how many times you get up." Someone quite dumb said that. If you are only getting up to be knocked down by the same exact thing that got you in the first place, you are not operating at full mental capacity because that is foolishness defined. That is exactly how I had spent that morning on the ice mountain. Falling down and popping right back up to fall down again. Never mind that rule #1 bans all falling, I was breaking it with abandon.
There comes a time when a person's body just can't take any more hard impacts. I had reached that point after my second fall, but I kept going because I didn't (and don't) know any better. That's why I am often found walking straight into dangerous situations. It isn't because I don't have any fear, it is because I don't recognize the danger until I'm completely embedded and it is then too late to retreat.
I sat defeated on this horrible ice mountain, wondering how I would reach the base again to return to normal life. I wanted to see my family again, but my energy levels were waning. I had considered just giving up, but I couldn't let that be the end of my story. I decided to wait for inspiration. Every single time I've waited for inspiration, it appears within ten minutes or less. This time was no different. I don't think I had more than ten minutes of energy reserve left anyway at that point. There wasn't a plan B either. A group of proficient snowboarders slid by me carving wonderful and flowing arcs through the ice. I knew in an instant that my problem was with the board, not my skills. The group stopped about one hundred feet down range from me to take a break. I saw my opportunity to get help and I seized it.
It took me a few minutes to regain my footing and then I crashed my way to the group. I did my best to make my final fall look intentional. Once I regained consciousness--I don't know how long I was out--I asked the group for advice. I explained that I couldn't get my board to act right, and I didn't understand why. I asked for some tips to help me get my groove on the board. One of them, I presumed that he was their leader, spoke to me. He said, "Don't worry, man. Just keep trying. You'll get it." And with that the whole group got up and sailed down the rest of the mountain. I screamed. I was filled with anger and hatred. He had given me useless advice.
I know that my anger would have caused me to assault that entire group if I would have been able to catch them, but since I could only sporadically stay upright, I had no chance of doing that. I'm not ashamed to admit that the moment my anger dissipated it was replaced by tears. I was sore, fatigued, broken, and alone. I was certain I would die on that stupid mountain, and everyone would know I couldn't snowboard. Then I got angry again. For those who like to skip ahead, I did not need to avail myself of Ski Patrol's expert rescue services on that day.
Just getting back to my feet was difficult, but the anger and adrenaline fueled me to new levels of performance. I was determined to defeat everything that had been mocking me all day. I turned my board toward the fall line and prepared to fall again. Except. Except this time I didn't fall! I had found my balance on the board! I was upright and heading straight for a large tree! My choices were to either fall down again and possibly never get up, or carve away from the tree and hope the tree couldn't also move to counter me. I held my breath and initiated the turn. Again, to my complete surprise and amazement, the board turned and I didn't fall. I felt like I was floating on a cloud of ice with a gentle invisible force pushing me to greater speeds down the slope. It was magical, and I also remember it as the moment I thought that it must be similar to the feeling of surfing minus the threat of shark attack.
I made it to the bottom without falling, and then spent the rest of the day honing my technique. I never saw that group of snowboarders again, but I had always wanted to thank that guy for making me so angry that I refused to let myself fail. Professional lessons are much more effective and should be less painful than the method I used.
All I had to do was let my anger reach levels that can induce a stroke or heart attack to unlock my full potential. I could have been doing so much more with AcMo sooner if I had remembered that lesson. Our proposed expansion into portable medical safety devices is prescient since I'm going to be channeling the power of that anger soon, and I'll need a solid medical team to revive me if I go overboard.
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