Ninjas. On my snowboard.

Today it feels as if I was attacked by ninjas in my sleep last night. I went snowboarding yesterday and let me tell you... I suck. Despite this glaring fact, I still go because I love the experience. It was a clear, cloudless day... absolutely perfect snowboarding weather. No wind. Just the mountain and the sky. When you're 13 some-odd thousand feet up in the air, you begin to wonder who first had the crazy idea of going 40 miles an hour down a mountain on nothing but a plank of wood. Crazy bastard. And yet, there I was- rocking gently on a rather high ski-lift that seemed to be carrying me to the freaking summit. Up that high, the sky takes on a whole new quality of blue. It's undescribable. I felt as if I squinted hard enough, I would be able to make the faint outline of stars. It's that high. It's that blue. My awe of God's creation was brought to an abrupt stop however, when I came to the end of the lift. Curse you ski lift! How anyone can get off of the lift without falling on their ass is beyond me. It's going so fast when I dismount that I feel like I should tuck and roll. Instead I just flail and fall. Which is pretty much how the day went. Luckily, I was with a very understanding friend who would ski off a little ways and glance back just in time to see me (once again) on my butt in the snow. He didn't get impatient with me and my apologies were always followed by a "you're fine". By the time I was getting used to the board again, I was so sore that I could barely stand and kept falling only because I was so tired. Sigh. This trip just made me inescapably aware that although I do many things (like paintball and golf), I'm not especially good at any of them. Oh well. At least I do stuff. Even if I suck. Even if I feel like I've been ran through a meat tenderizer.