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Perseverance

By Susan Oloier

The snow was freshly fallen and the trails had been groomed. I had awaited the winter ski season with much anticipation. I learned to ski late in life, so I wanted my oldest son to experience the slopes at a much earlier age than I did. I had enrolled him in a series of lessons last season, and, as spring approached, he proved to be quite proficient at alpine skiing. That is, as proficient as a four-year-old can be. With home health in place to care for our three-year-old son with a disability, Jeff and I took Justin to the slopes. While Justin remembered some of the rudimentary concepts related to skiing (the pizza), some of the other essentials escaped him. "Hug your teddy!" we would call out to him, demonstrating the move: knees bent, squat position, arms forward as if hugging a cherished stuffed animal. Hugging the teddy looks cute when a young child does it; it is far less flattering when performed by an adult. Those of the parentless variety would blush from embarrassment to be seen doing anything of the kind. Obviously, life changes when you have kids. So with some of those key concepts left behind in the mirror of his preschool self, he inevitably fell - over and over again. Some of his falls were insignificant; others were seemingly insurmountable feats that drew the help of good Samaritans to get him through some steep parts.

The Justin of old - the four-year-old version - would have given up. In fact, a first-time snowboarder was overheard telling his dad: "Dude! I'm not going to snowboard after today." This could have been Justin as he was the one during lessons to declare that it was definitely past his bedtime as the daytime waned, who sat on the hill, defeated, while other kids slid over to the lifts. This year, I prepared myself for declarations of I don't want to do this anymore and I want to go home. Those sentences never eked past his vocal chords. Instead, he seemed determined to keep going. The eagerness to give up was replaced by a determination to persevere in spite of the difficulty and the proverbial cry of uncle that would have been so easy to make. I know-skiing is a hard venture for some. I have rarely taken on the black diamonds that Jeff loves to ski. And when I have, I have repeatedly fallen, wishing I was sitting at the bottom of the mountain, nursing a bruised ego and a beer. And there were many instances when it would have been easier to finish the day early.

One example occurred with our failure to consult the trail map; we found ourselves without any green runs available to navigate our way down the mountain. "We're going to get on some blue runs," I warned, as Jeff had already propelled himself down a black diamond, leaving Justin and me with what little choices we had and our limited skiing skills pooled together. "It's pretty steep, so you're going to have to make a hard pizza," I advised, knowing that a fall was immanent. And fall he did on the steep parts. Getting him up was like sequencing a molecule of DNA: impossible. So he slid down on his backside. When we arrived at the flat part, I thought he would call it a day. Instead, he was ready for more. Another time, he fell and did a forward somersault onto his back. I thought for sure he injured himself and - at the very least - felt deterred by skiing ever again. But Justin lifted himself from the snow, got back on his feet, and skied away.

Though it was a long time ago that I was in the throes of beginner ship, I do remember the meltdowns, the crying, and pronouncing to Jeff more than once that I quit. And, truthfully, sometimes it is the best choice to give up rather than continue: a fight with a neighbor over whose responsibility it is to cut tree branches comes to mind. But when it comes to doing things we love, it is best to keep trying. Certainly, watching my oldest son continue to get up and figuratively dust the snow off his jacket during our ski outing inspired me to persevere. There are many times I feel the urge to quit like I did in my early days of skiing. There are times when I know the easiest route would be to move on to something else. But always with the desire to try comes the satisfaction of knowing that you accomplished something new. It may not bring with it a gold metal or an Academy Award, but perseverance itself - the journey toward the end - often carries with it rewards of its own.