How to feel good about being bad

For when you badly want be good at something but you suck + a video of me at the end

I write essays unpacking our messy baggage. You can hear me read today’s piece by clicking on the article voiceover. To protect my mental peace, I’ve halted using social media to share my work. Send my words to a friend, if it happens to matter to you today. If you’re new here, you can subscribe to receive my newsletter a couple Fridays a month.

bonus points if you can name this movie!

Hey, do me a favor, will ya?

The next time you see a little nervous lady white knuckling her steering wheel in her Toyota Corolla going snail speed on the freeway, at a whopping 45 miles per hour, give her a little grace. Because that lady is basically me, but imagine I’m dawdling on a snowboard, clenching my fists and bracing to fall, while skiers and snowboarders zip past me.

I want to go fast but I’m scared, OK!?!?!

Last year, as a 40-year-old, I learned how to snowboard¹. My husband started snowboarding again a couple years prior and excelled quickly. My kids were in lessons and progressed well. I knew if I didn’t learn soon, there wouldn’t be any other way for me to witness my kids going down the mountain. Unlike a spectator sport like soccer where you sit and knit on the sidelines as a supportive mom, you need to be on the slopes alongside your kids to cheer them on.

peace

Going in, I didn’t think it would be that bad.

I knew how to skateboard. I was in pretty good physical shape. Yet my 4-decades-old body had other plans.

After taking a few lessons, I headed up the mountain with my husband to try a few runs. I was fixated on nailing my form, shifting my body to achieve the S-turns my instructor taught me, and bending my front knee to steer like I was advised.

None of that happened. Lots of falling happened.

Instead of getting up and brushing myself off, I was a 3-year-old hangry girl who skipped her nap and lost her favorite Barbie. Commence full tantrum, lots of screaming and punching the snow. After all the falls, subsequent screams and tears, we painstakingly made it down the run. My wrists were on fire and my body ached but, mostly, my last bit of dignity was badly bruised.

When we planned on another week at the same ski town this year, I was not thrilled to go back.

My ego and body had fears about falling — and failing.

Before the trip, I had visions of myself falling forward and knocking my teeth out. But I couldn’t be the grouch on vacation so I decided to kick my fears and grabbed my worries by the horns. We were on our trip for 8 days and I snowboarded for 7 of them. Throughout the week, I watched snowboarders whiz by me quickly while I inched along.

I fell a lot. One time I fell so hard snow flew into my nostrils, in through my goggles, and I literally ate nature’s shaved ice as I hit the ground. I’m often scared when I gain momentum so I tend to slow down to a comical speed. My husband joked that I have a stance as if I’m going fast but, nope, I’m that little Corolla going 45 on Interstate 5.

It was difficult to ride again and again, run after run, but I was determined to get better. It was hard to keep myself going. Even with all the practice, the voice in my head had a lot of comments about how I’m not getting much better.

Right now, I admit, I’m still not that good at snowboarding.

me riding with seasoned snowboarders

I also know I may never be as good as my husband and nephew who skim through blacks (the hardest runs), while I’m apprehensive going down greens (the easiest way down). My husband, the entrepreneur, is a risk taker. Me, not so much. The competitive side in me is annoyed by that reality.

For much of my trip, I opted to go snowboarding alone. I didn’t want an audience watching me, nor anyone waiting for me at the bottom of the hill. I wanted to go my own pace without any pressure.

As I was going down the same run continuously because it felt safe for me to practice on, I realized I was having fun. I fell and I had fun. I went at a leisurely speed and had fun. I went a little faster, got scared, slowed down, and had fun.

This is how I felt better about being bad at something — I found my willingness to play around with it.

I explored what it felt like to go a hair faster than my comfort level and right before I thought I was going to die — going at a glacial speed — I actually had fun with my mini acceleration. Then I tried it again. I tried different runs that were at a higher skill level and, well, a lot of that was a fail but at least I tried. And I didn’t cry.

On the last day of our trip, it snowed a significant amount which made my snowboarding experience completely different. I got brave and allowed myself to go faster because I knew the fall would be less of a blow on powder. I picked up more speed and felt the thrill of snowboarding on pillow-like snow.

When my husband was too busy digging out our son from snow that went up to his hips, I decided to have fun with it and just go. I said out loud, as I was riding through our new softer terrain, “Wooooooooohooooo!”

Snowboarding at that moment was like drifting over clouds.

And this is where the story is to be continued. I get to try snowboarding again in February. Until then, I can honestly say I had fun being bad at something.

I may not be very good at snowboarding and that’s alright with me. I didn’t realize I’d be so good at being slow but, not to brag, I’m fantastic at it :)

When I wrote this essay, it made me wonder where else this shows up in my life. What other things am I “bad” at and I could benefit from trying to have fun with it, knowing that getting good isn’t the goal?

Here are a few of mine: swimming, my sense of direction, and math.

What are you bad at but curious how things would change for you if you tried to just have fun with it?

*** + a little video of me on my mountain Corolla!

1. Lots of people have suggested I try skiing instead. But I had already gone so far in lessons, I needed to give this a good shot. Plus, my little inner 90s sk8er gal needed to fulfill this goal of feeling cool.