I should have known when I swiped right that eventually I’d be in trouble. And sure enough, five months into a relationship with someone passionate enough about skiing to include a photo of it on his dating profile, I was headed to the slopes. It’s not that I’m snow-averse, but I’ve identified almost exclusively as an “indoors kid” my whole life, which may partially explain my predilection for yoga. Discovering the practice 20 years ago opened up a new world and showed me that I (forever picked last in gym class) could actually tap into some form of athleticism (in my living room!) and even enjoy it. By the time I completed my 200-hour teacher training in 2017, I felt like I’d found a stable home base for my body and brain that helped heal years of disordered eating, body dysmorphia, and athletic insecurities.
Three years later, I rented a snowboard. It seemed like a safe enough compromise at first: My partner would ski with his friends, and I’d invest in three days of snowboarding lessons. I was scared and apprehensive, but some small piece of me felt a jolt of excitement, even hope, as we geared up. After all, yoga had not only helped me hold Planks and never-ending Chair Poses, but it had taught me patience, self-compassion, and humility. Right?
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November - December 2020