I don't want to age myself, but snowboarding was not a big deal when I was growing up. I come from a family of skiers. And while I likely had fun, I was never very good. I let the hobby slip into the darkness and I was good with that.
Over the course of many many years, I thought that maybe I could try this skiing thing again. I still didn't like the cold weather, the spontaneity, risk of injury, etc. But I was determined to be a good sport. And apart from the crying and quitting, I was a pretty good sport. I didn't kill anyone, so that was good enough for me.
Yes. Seriously. I did cry. And I quit.
To keep this relatively concise, my legs were too large for boots to fit properly. And I was too overweight and too out of shape. And this was soul crushing.
My brother encouraged me to try snowboarding. He told me the boots were more comfortable and they would fit. I told him (and everyone else) that I would "next season" after I had lost the weight. And it didn't happen.
When my 4 year old niece started learning, I was slightly more interested as I thought it would be a fun family activity. I had spent so many years on the sidelines because I couldn't keep up. I wanted to be an active participant in my life. I wanted to be involved in the family activities instead of just planning them.
So, on our family post-Christmas ski trip, I started learning to snowboard. I've been putting in relatively short days because of the pain, bruising, and mental stress. While I can physically do this, I still have those demons in my head that tell me I can't. They tell me to quit. And to throw a hissy fit when it's not going well (as a side note - it's pretty anti-climatic when boarding as you don't have anything to really throw).
But I'm not quitting. I am not listening to the voices. I refuse to be on the sidelines of my life. And I have the sore muscles, bruises, and shrinking bank account to prove it.