Don’t turn in the snowboard (conquering through perseverance)

In my early twenties I went on a ski trip to Colorado with some friends. I had been skiing once before and had found learning to ski to be relatively quick and easy for me. So on this trip I determined I was going to try snowboarding instead. I figured it would be as easy for me to learn as skiing had been. (After all, aren’t boarders way cooler than skiers?)

Our group was filled with skiers and the only snowboarder in the group was my brother. I rented a snowboard and asked his advice on how to board. His response was the epitome of helpfulness, “I don’t know, you just do it.” (Thanks, bro! Got it.)

We grabbed our gear and hit the mountain. I was with experienced skiers and that meant everyone wanted to start on blue and black diamond runs. I was an idiot who thought because he was able to pick up skiing easily he would also be able learn to snowboard easily, so I agreed. After a few warmup runs we took the lift up to the higher peak. (Did I mention that I’m an idiot?)

Very quickly I learned how big of an idiot I really was. I was terrible at snowboarding. Now, let me mention one thing to those of you who are not snowboarders. Being terrible at snowboarding hurts really, really badly. When you crash on skis, your skis come off and you slide and roll down the mountain before gliding to a stop. It’s not comfortable, but unless you are cruising at Lindsey Vonn style speeds you will probably be ok. Snowboarding is different. When you crash on a snowboard you often go from flying downhill to a complete stop. In a millisecond. Similar to a car crash. Or an abrupt period at the end of a. For those of you who haven’t had that experience, it’s not fun. That’s kinda what I looked like, a car crash that happened over and over. (And over and over and over and over…)

It turns out that snowboarding down black diamond runs has a steep learning curve. (Pun intended.)

But I was determined to be a boarder, so undeterred by my lack of skills and unswayed by my complete lack of ability on a snowboard, I persevered. And by “persevered” I mean crashed. A lot. And by “a lot” I mean that’s really all I did. I found out later that I looked so bad that my friends were taking bets behind my back as to when I would give up and go trade my snowboard in for a pair of skis. (Yeah, it looked that painful.)

One friend bet I wouldn’t last the day. One friend bet I would make it two days. Someone bet I would trek back at lunch to make the trade and another bet I would be tough enough to last half the week. Everyone had their bets on me trading the board in for skis except one friend. One guy put his money on me figuring it out. He told the group, “It’s John, he won’t give up. He’ll keep at it until he gets it.” (He probably added, “No matter how unbelievably bad he looks doing it.”)

That friend was right. I would have died on that snowboard rather than turn it in and admit it was too tough for me. (And I’m sure death wasn’t far away on a few occasions.)

I would have turned the board in for a pair of skis because I didn’t enjoy snowboarding. I would have turned the board in for a pair of skis because I ended up liking skis better. But I would never turn the board in because it was too difficult for me to figure out. I would never turn the board in because it was too tough or too painful. (I know what you are thinking, “this idiot sure is hard-headed!” True, but that hard head came in handy during all those crashes.)

–

Fast forward more than a decade. I have gone through some difficult times as of late. I’ve been bumped around and bruised up recently. I feel like I’ve wound up on a hill that’s too steep and difficult for my skills and abilities to handle. I seem to be spending more time getting banged up than I do gliding along. More time crashing than cruising. And it hurts. A lot.

Fortunately I have a supportive wife and friends. I was talking to one of those friends about some of those difficulties the other day and he had a few wise words for me. Six words to be exact.

He said, “Don’t turn in the damn snowboard.”

–

It was a good reminder. Because staying on the snowboard takes perseverance.

Perseverance is rare

Perseverance is a unique trait. It requires patience and discipline. It involves difficulty. And most people would rather avoid difficulty.

Perseverance is hard

Perseverance means steadfastness in doing something despite difficulty or delay in achieving success. Perseverance, by definition, requires difficulty and delay. Without difficulty or delay you wouldn’t need perseverance.

Perseverance is an equalizer

The one thing that can make up for lack of talent is perseverance. The thing that can make up the difference between your skill level and the skill level needed is perseverance.

Perseverance is a type of hope

To persevere means to continue in a course of action even in the face of difficulty or with little or no prospect of success. That’s hope. Hope offers success where there is none to be found. Perseverance is the bridge you have to cross to get there.

Perseverance is refusing to turn in the snowboard

Perseverance refuses to trade in the snowboard for skis. No matter how painful it is. No matter how bad you look. No matter how long it takes to figure it out.

We all need a reminder every once in a while. I did. So consider this your reminder. No matter how tough it gets, “DON’T TURN IN THE SNOWBOARD.”

Persevere.