I’ve just come back from a week in the French Alps. When a friend heard that I was going to be trying skiing for the first time she suggested that my husband encase me in bubble wrap. (Thank you Kim!) Given that I am a world champion in falling over this was not entirely unreasonable. As regular readers will know, my husband’s birthday gift to me was a list of 40 challenges. (If you’re not a regular reader, catch up here). Trying skiing was included on the list and I was persuaded that a family holiday to a suitable resort was preferable to an indoor centre in the UK. Ironically, even stress relieving packing material would not have prevented me from injuring myself at the end of my first lesson, falling over whilst attempting to use a drag lift and being, well, dragged.
Later on, after a visit to the pharmacy and with the right side of my body in a fair amount of pain, I reflected on my day and wondered a) what there was to do if I was really crocked and b) whether I wanted to try again if I recovered in time. Would I be chickening out if I decided, on the strength of one lesson, that skiing wasn’t for me?