an unusual ski journey – from resistance to being an instructor

an unusual ski journey – from resistance to being an instructor

I used to dislike skiing … let alone love. I have to say that about 12 years ago there were still cold winters, which my little, wintered self did not like at all. Whenever my parents and I skied the piste, I asked how many more times we would go up again.

“Once again and then we’ll go for hot chocolate,” they used to motivate me.

(That’s a better memory. I also remember the times when we sat on the cable way countless times and I, already out of despair and frustration and COLDNESS, lay into the snow and demonstrated the final point behind my sport day.)  

At some point, however, something has changed. Maybe it was when my godmother, who was an instructor, took me under her wings and knew very well that stubborn, spoiled kids can’t do without some sip of a hot chocolate from time to time.

Well, it took years for me to start looking promising on two boards, but as soon as it came, I started to like running downhill. Today I perceive it completely differently.

White snow flickers around me, cold air stings my face, but I don't slow down. I descend downhill at a dizzying speed, my skis are tilted, hand is almost touching the slope, I love it and the knowledge that I can lose my life every second evokes freedom, joy and a desire not to lose it.
And those views. They are really worth it. This one is from Kaltenbach, Austria, but our Slovak Chopok is also a must-see.

…So one day I said to myself that making money out of what I love was not a bad idea at all. However, this had to be preceded by a course I took in 2019. In addition to my godmother, my uncle also completed something similar, and neither of them initially supported my idea. It is very demanding, said the uncle, who skied competitively and passed the exams only for the third time.

Damn it, I thought, if I am not able to do it for the first time, I’ll try again then. Believe it or not, the exams were challenging. They consisted of three parts, while the last, ie the rides, was divided into three more. I burned out two of them, so I had to retake them in a few months.

Even though it didn’t work out for the first time, it didn’t break my heart (neither did I break my skis out of anger.) I have beautiful memories of those days of training, lectures and memorising Russian words. No, it wasn’t just about that, I swear. I met the great people with whom I used to stay up until three in the morning, and at seven o’clock the bus was taking us back up the slope.

When the Corona season came, I didn’t see skis at all one season.

To this day, however, I am already excited about my uniform, which I admired two years ago only from a distance; and about the success of the first clients. The friendly atmosphere that prevails on the slopes and supportive instructors not only from my school are also worth mentioning. And the fact that I have the power to inspire others to do something that I am passionate about? Tell me it doesn’t sound like a dream job! 😛

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