Hole Shot Tour: Day 1

Fifty racers stripped down to their customized, padded, skin-tight racing clothes, chatted with their coaches, met with their racing friends, and analyzed the course like it was a particularly tasty burger.

I sat alone in floppy torn snowpants purchased nine years ago, strapping in to a board even older than that. No coach. No racer buddies. Just staring at the intro jump a good three feet taller than me.

 

When I slid into the start gate, I wasn't hit with the arm-shaking nerves I got during my first race at Raging Buffalo, but my heart belly-flopped into my stomach when I pulled myself out of it and launched over the jump. 

 

(this is not me, just a few guy boarders to give you a taste for the start gate)

Today was training day: an extra optional day for racers to board (or ski) the course early. Snowboarders had from 12:15 to 2:00. To the professional eye, I looked like a beginner my first time slipping the course. I lost my balance, I lost my edge on the particularly icy portions, and I muttered like a maniac the whole way down about how intense the course was.

On my way back up, determined to climb back on the horse (or should I say dragon?), feeling coachless and inept, I remembered who my coach is. He's not a human coach, but a coach who can command the mountain to adjust beneath my board if He wants.

The course went better. I started anticipating the launch of the jumps and the lengths of the gaps. I understood the iciness of the snow and roughness of the landings.

I'm in the hotel now, counting the bruises and wondering if I'm allowed to stuff a pillow over my tailbone for tomorrow's training. I've yet to completely board the course without slowing down. Most of today's training tried to tackle my lack-of-confidence. Every time I close my eyes, I imagine the course and how I'll dominate it tomorrow...with my Coach. He's the one who decides what "dominating" will look like. Even if it's last place, I'm following His commands.