Last week my father and aunt came to town to watch the kids so I could tag along with Adam on his business trip.

He had two stops, one in LA and one in Boulder.

In LA we also managed to see his sister and niece. I’m still kicking myself that we didn’t get a photo together.

It was a quick one night’s stay then we were off to Boulder for a few more nights.

After Adam finished all his meetings, he cleared his desk for Friday so we could have one day to go snowboarding and skiing together.

“Wait, are you a really good skier?” I asked.

I was having trouble processing the fact that we had just passed our 12 year anniversary but still had never skied or snowboarded together.

“I’m okay, not great.” Adam replied. Then, thinking out loud, “Maybe I’ll try snowboarding?”

You see, I only every learned to snowboard. It was one very painful week in Whistler that left me with knee bruises so big I could not bend them by the end of the week.

In the end Adam decided he didn’t want to slow me down, so he got skis.

Still I was worried. It had been almost 20 years since Whistler. The night before we had dinner in Denver with a mish mosh of friends, Adam’s friend Brian and wife Virginia as well as with my friend Holly and her hubby Jose.

“Ah, it’s just like riding a bike.” Holly reassured me.

The next morning we donned our newly acquired winter hats from Adam’s friend Andy’s company.Then we were off to the nearest mountain, Eldora.

Adam took this picture then showed it to me later that day. “See, you can barely see the ski lift that you just fell off of from this angle.”

Sadly, I have no idea which lift ride this is because I fell off the lift every single time I rode it. I would fall then drop to my knees and crawl to the patch just outside of the way, dragging my snowboard, pigeon-toed on my left foot.

The first run of the day took me almost an hour to do. Holly lied. I could NOT remember for the life of me how to snowboard. I fell down every single turn.

Adam would tell me which way to go and I would just go whichever way the snowboard decided. If it was the same place Adam was pointing to, it was mere coincidence.

I had bought a new face mask at the bottom of the mountain that I was so happy with it on the ski lift, protecting me from the 30 mile an hour winds. But now, on the way down, it became a device for torture. I was sweating so badly from exursion, the cap kept all the warmth in. I could feel the sweat pooling and sticking to the hair matted between my neck and face mask.

On the second run of the day, I finally remembered that, when you are right (normal) or left (goofy) on a snowboard, it means that foot is actually BEHIND. That foot is steering, not in front. I switched my position. This time I was only falling half the time. Usually on the turn from back to front.

Meanwhile Adam is skiing backwards, with one hand on his phone, filming me.

I can’t believe how much he underestimated himself and I over estimated myself.

We managed a few more runs then I asked if we could quit and just go home and take a nap. Adam agreed.

Now I’m scared to ride my bike.