I just thought I would tell you guys that I used the *hands pouring water from a pitcher plan* and a more straight-on lip entrance today.
It worked well the first time.
The second. . . uh, well, I actually landed the
tiny bit of air and then. . . it's unclear exactly what happened on that first turn, but the result was an unintentional front flip on a steep pitch, one ski off (although as I watched, in accident slow-mo, the leg with the ejection, I was glad the binding working as advertised. VERY glad.) and me sliding 25-30ft downhill of said ski.
Which then required a ski removal, a steep, slippery climb back up to the other ski, and a ski reattachment on a steep enough spot that I had to kick out a little *ski platform* to step back into the binding. I supposed I could have slid down to where it mellowed out, but I was already humiliated enough that I figured I had to get the $#@^& skis back on and
work it.
Which I did, and ended up smiling.
Must. Try. More. And harder. (And next time with an actual ski companion, instead of all alone. Crashing is probably smarter with friends, even if they'll make fun of you later.)
Although I will say that on the run or so previous, a woman I spoke to for a second said, "You're a very good skier," which I don't think is something anyone hears very often. That was kind of cool.
So
of course my overweening pride and I then had to go *ss over teakettle.
Gotta keep that *huge* ego in check, lol.
I don't know why, but I really prefer variable conditions and small drops and even bumps to smooth stuff. . . even though I kind of suck. :D I think it's for the same reason I always preferred trail running to road running-- you have to use your brain and a lot of focus and be very in the moment. I kind of zone out on the groomers.