I used to dislike skiing - every trip felt like a painful and frustrating struggle. I stuck with it for my family, knowing how much they loved the sport and the joy it brought them. But for me, skiing showed how much I’d changed with age. The fearless adventurer I once was, racing down trails and attempting wild stunts, was long gone. I miss that version of myself, the one who wasn’t afraid of falling. Despite my challenges, this winter sport has become a great way for my family to bond and create lasting memories.
Skiing reminds me that I’m not as young or invincible as I once was. The days of carefree risks have passed, replaced by the responsibilities of family. I miss the reckless freedom of youth, but there’s a deep satisfaction in being needed, even if it means approaching life with more caution.
When I first learned to ski in Queenstown, I was stressed and rigid, overwhelmed by my instructor’s directions. The steep hill ahead felt impossible, and I genuinely thought one wrong move would send me tumbling to my doom.
But this time, something shifted. It wasn’t just what I’d learned - it was that I stopped overthinking and leaned into what felt natural. Drawing on my rollerblading experience, I trusted my body to guide me. Suddenly, I moved with a fluidity I’d never felt before. The fear was still there, but it no longer paralysed me. I wasn’t impulsive, just confident, and for the first time, I felt in control. My turns aren’t perfect, and I’m nowhere near as fast as the skiers speeding past me, but I feel happy and at ease. Skiing has helped me rediscover a part of myself I thought I’d lost.
