Transitioning in your early 20s

My parents put me on skis before I could swing a baseball bat. After a failed 15 year career in baseball it's worth asking whether they should have even started me on that sport, but that's neither here nor there.

My winter sports obsession started the same way it did for many east-coasters of the 1990s. Weekend trips to Seven Springs & Hidden Valley in western PA, or south to Wisp near the West Virginia/Maryland border. The parents turned us loose on the mountains while they drank all day at the lodge before driving us back to whatever house they booked off the yellow pages (seriously, how did this shit get done before the internet)?

Puberty eventually arrived and with it came my first wet dream and hatred of The Man. The Man, of course, was a skier. The following Christmas, Santa decided to indulge my inner heathen and leave a snowboard under the tree. For the next 7-8 years, it was nothing but baggy clothes, no helmets, and park laps with the handheld Sony DCR camcorder capturing every underwhelming trick along the way.

In the mid/late 2000s as local Pittsburgh superstar and future gold medalist Tom Wallisch became famous, it became clear my career as professional snowboarder was very much in jeopardy. My interests soon turned to Natty Light, 4 LoKo, Pizza Hut, and not getting laid. I didn't know it at the time but those decisions would put me at a crossroads. By this time I had been doing yearly trips to the Rockies and let me tell you - snowboarding is HARD WORK out there. It's almost impossible on a hangover, although there is no better cure if you can muscle through the first hour. The runs are obviously 100x longer, and getting stuck on a flat, half mile catwalk or "green circle" on your way down the hill at the end of the day was about as much fun as your parent's divorce. Not having any patience for that kind of adversity, I eventually decided to transition back into a sky once and for all.

It was an extremely hard decision and while I don't know what it's like for people going through other types of transitions, I imagine we're all kind of kindred spirits. I'm a big loyalty guy and I felt like I was letting down not only an entire subculture that helped shape me, but my younger shithead self. But I am who I am, which is a beer-gutted bastard who has very little tolerance for inconvenience or extra effort unless I've specifically planned for it. The heartbreak wore off pretty quickly once I felt the pleasure of giving my snowboard buddies the double bird on the end-of-day marathon trip down to the bar.

I pulled an Arya Stark and stashed away my weapon (snowboard) some time ago justttt in case I ever need it, and have actually taken it out for a couple laps in the last year or so. The sensation is similar to flirting with college girls at the old watering hole on boy's football weekend. Fun for the first hour or two, but then you realize it's way too much effort and those days have passed you by anyway. Stick with what won't get you killed, concussed or castrated.