limits the shade of gray

 

  I signed up for a five week beginners ski course through my University. It proved to be far more difficult than I had imagined, I peaked at my second lesson. I took the class on Monday night with the intentions to start my week off right. It would be a fun class I could use to release stress. Little did I know it would be the cause of stress. I grew to hate Monday nights. I would get nervous just thinking about it. So, on my fifth night you can imagine my elation. It was test night but it was also my final night. Somehow, I managed to make a perfect ten out of ten on my exam. My ski instructor, or “Coach” as we liked to refer to him as, invited us to try the more rigorous slopes with him. Class was officially over so it would not hurt our grade. We would go on more and more advanced slopes until we reached the black diamond. He told us we would find our limit and when we no longer felt confident we should stop. I had already found my limit on the beginners slope but somehow found my self on the ski lift next to my best friend headed to a new slope.

  My stomach was in knots. For five weeks I had watched the pros fly down this steep mountain and whiz by me and my buckling knees. “No Regrets!” She kept shouting this to me as I shook my head back and forth. We lifted the safety bar and exited the lift. Coach was ready to go and told us “to just keep doing what we had learned in class”, that “this slope is no different”. But, it sure did look a lot different from where I was standing. If you continued on the lift we just got off it would take you to the top, which would put you on a black diamond slope. So the experts who were able to conquer a black diamond would be merging onto the same slope that fell precariously in front of me. Coach and the two other girls who had been brave enough (dumb enough?) to take on this adventure were already off. I was completely unprepared but quickly followed suit more afraid of being trapped on top of the slope alone then skiing down it. And I made it! No complications! I slowed to a stop in front of my new comrades and beamed. Coach pointed to the next ski lift and headed over. I looked to my friend and explained I wasn't skilled enough for the next one.

  Apparently the fear that coarsed through my body was not obvious to everyone else because I found myself on the next ski lift just as nervous as before. This slope consisted of sharp turns and jumps. Jumps! My stomach was jumping! Once again, Coach left us in the dust as he zoomed down. I was the last one to go but found myself passing everyone. Not by choice. I was out of control. My ski poles were flying through the air as I struggled to maintain balance. The fear that had not been obvious just five minutes before was written all over my face now. I shouted apologizes as I cut other skiers off. The wind was whipping against my face and I was unable to see through the tears in my eyes. Coach quickly caught up to me and calmly instructed me on how to slow my speed, which was gaining. “Turn.” He simply said. It was what I just spent the last five weeks learning how to do and when I needed the newly acquired skill most, it completely escaped my memory. “How? HOW? I don't know how!” It was all I could say. I made to the bottom with a racing heart and stood there shocked as I waited for everyone else. Coach pointed and said, “You found your limit.”

  I had found my limit. It was obvious and I had no doubt I was not ready for the next and final slope – the taunting Black Diamond. However, finding your limit in life may not be so obvious. I knew when I had found my limit in skiing. The entire way down that awful slope I was thinking please don't kill yourself. The danger of being so out of control was very clear and very real. But when it comes to finding your limit in life, we're able to justify things. Cloud them. Color them with gray. Last week I almost let one simple mistake and lapse of judgment completely ruin my reputation and a close friendship. Things have been tough and I was doing my best to keep them in control. But, my best was not enough. The more control I tried to take, the more out of control things got. I was furious with a friend who had completely shut down on me when I did something out of my norm. I was ready to blow up on her and never look back. She calmly confronted me with a heavy heart just when I was ready to corner her. She had waited to talk to me because she needed time to pray. Pray. I hadn't even considered that. She was so hurt. So burdened. So disappointed, that she wanted to be sure she was talking to me with the right frame of mind. I found my limit. Almost at the cost of everything I loved most in life. I had covered up my limit with fancy ski gear and special goggles. Fortunately, I had someone there to take off my goggles and show me this slope was too much for me to handle. Her words hurt. But they humbled me. I saw the slope was not only too much for me, but something I never wanted. I found my limit.