While skiing at Marmot Basin on Sunday, I had a flashback to my teenage self sliding down a double-black diamond run on my face.

Needless to say, that’s not one of my favourite memories. First of all, it was painful. Second of all, it was exhausting – not the sliding, but climbing all the way back up the mountain to collect my poles, gloves, skis and toque, all of which had been torn from me as I rocketed down the hill.

Let’s just say after acquiring all of my gear, I didn’t put my skis back on that day. I walked down the run and ended up getting a snowmobile ride back to the chalet. 

Now as you can probably tell, I didn’t belong on that run. I was and still am an intermediate skier who prefers to hang out on the green and blue runs with the beginners. You see, that way I get to feel like I’m an awesome skier, without actually being an awesome skier.

So anyway, back to Marmot. 

It was only my second time on the hill this season and I hadn’t yet been up the mid-mountain lift, so I thought I’d check out the one and only green run stemming from the Eagle Express Quad Chair. 

I guess I should also mention that this was my boyfriend’s second time downhill skiing in his life. The first time being a few weeks ago.

Anyway, when we hopped off the lift, we followed the sign that read “Easiest way down.” Well, it turns out that sign is a big, fat, ginormous lie. Instead of leading us to a nice, leisurely green run, it brought us to a choice of four black diamond runs. 

Now, I have to admit, like when I was a teenager, I was the one leading the way. I don’t know if it’s an issue I have that leads me to the top of runs that I’m clearly not prepared for, or if it’s just the damn ski hills and their bad signage. 

For the moment, I’d like to blame the ski hills.

So there we are, standing at the top of Slash, Spillway, Lift Line and Dromedary, looking like lost idiots. 

Then along came a woman whose husband had directed her to the same point. She looked as terrified and worried as we were, so naturally we befriended her.

But the thing about her was, she wasn’t going to let fear stop her from getting down the hill. So off she went, making slow turns down Lift Line.

Once she was out of sight, my boyfriend and I looked at each other and decided it was time to make our way down the hill as well. So we took off our skis and started the journey down on foot. That’s right, we walked down, right under the lift, so everyone could see.

I look back on the experience now and think I probably could have made it down one of those runs, but the fear of sliding down on my face was enough to keep me from trying.

I envy the woman we met. I wish I could put my fear aside and have confidence in my abilities. It’s crazy that one bad experience when I was 15 years old still has me shaken. It’s been 10 years since then and I’ve had many ski days between then and now.

I guess, although I chose to walk, the one difference between my teenage self and my somewhat-grown-up self is that I didn’t let that one run ruin my whole day on the mountain.

We had at least four more good runs after that, although not before stopping for a much deserved beer. But still, I got back on the hill and didn’t require a snowmobile ride. I guess you can call that progress.

So anyway, if you saw two weirdos walking down the hill on Sunday, now you know why. 

Next time, feel free to wave. 

DISCLAIMER: The Last Word is an opinion column, it is meant to provoke thought and debate. As such, any opinions written here are the writer’s own and do not reflect the viewpoint of any other Fitzhugh staff member or the directors of the Jasper Media Group Inc.