|Mt. Bachelor, central Oregon.|
I'm not the greatest skier. I started late in life, and I'm by nature a cautious perfectionist. I stay in bounds on the Green and Blue slopes. I take a lesson every time we go out. My form is perfect; I turn beautiful Cs and Ss.
But I am slow. Like, really, really slow. Rayne told me that my form and my speed don't coincide. I look like should be going much faster.
"I feel like I'm watching a ski movie in slow motion," a college friend now living in Oregon said the other day as he waited for me to traverse the decline over and over, moving only a few feet vertically with each turn.
He and Rayne did Black Diamonds and moguls today while I spent the morning on the Sunrise Express lift to the Marshmallow Trail. I was perfectly happy with this arrangement. I'm a Marshmallow kind of gal, you feel me?
My husband, on the other hand, is a risk-loving maniac. He grew up skiing on the west coast (read: way superior to northeast skiing). His favorite move is to wait until the person with whom he is skiing gets almost out of the sight and then BOMB down the mountain at full speed. He loves skiing through trees, up the sides of trails and over jumps. He has a helmet that makes him look like a Storm Trooper or a James Bond villain.
These two styles of skiing also define our general approaches to life. I study before saying anything because I hate making mistakes; Rayne will talk until you call bullshit on him. I only buy things on sale; Rayne buys what he likes even if he doesn't need it. I was the valedictorian of my high school class, have three Ivy League degrees and still don't know what I want to be when I grow up; Rayne studied Finance at the University of Oregon, showed up in New York without a job or an apartment, managed to land at Goldman Sachs and has subsequently built a successful hedge fund career.
What can I say? As a wise sailor once noted, I yam what I yam.
What is your ski personality? Marshmallow? Storm Trooper? Something in between?