This past weekend marked my 27th birthday, and consequently, my golden birthday. Typically, we don't really do much for birthdays, but this year I decided it would be a great idea to try something new...

Skiing.

Couple of things about me:

1. I'm scared of heights.
2. Mark and I don't do sports together.

So after spending far too many weekends in our little shack, (there is a serious drought on the festivals from November to February) I signed us up for a ski trip with Outdoor Recreation. 

The best part about my job is I read about all the stuff there is to do in Japan 40 hours a week, so I have a pretty good handle on where to go and how to go about doing it. So I knew that if I signed up to ski with Outdoor Rec we wouldn't have to drive and we would save money on the toll roads. 

I chose the trip to Okunakayama, because it was advertised as good for beginners. Yep. That's me alright. An added bonus was that I would get to correct Mark every time he tried to say the name. OH-COO-NAH-KEY-YAH-MAH. Easy as pie. 

Okunakayama is about an hour and a half south of Misawa. We left at 7 a.m. sharp on Saturday morning with a bus full of sleeping people. Forever ruined by morning radio, I was wide awake and working myself up into a tizzy. Our guide popped in a ski & snowboarding fanatic DVD and we were on our way.

Once we got there, the guide tells us the mountain got a bunch of snow overnight, apparently making conditions better. He suggests that I practice on the little sledding hill at the bottom of the mountain. 
 

I strapped in to my skis and made my first out of control, uncoordinated attempt down the sledding hill. Mark praised me and asked if I was ready for the chair lift.

"Are you out of your mind?! I went down ONCE. Let me practice."

Mark left and went up the lift, leaving me with a few uncoordinated snowboarders. I continued walking up the sledding hill, trying to master locking my boot into the ski. I spent a good 20 minutes trying to line myself up and go down the hill. Every time I tried to turn, I end up going backwards. Finally, a nice snowboarder pulled me forward, and I had a good run, if you can even call it that.

I'm ready for the lift. I can do this. This is fun. I'm outside, it's beautiful out here.

Since he had already made a few runs down the mountain, Mark was sore and hungry, so we went inside and grabbed some ramen from the kitchen. Then it was time to face the mountain.

Mark warned me the ski lift was a little scary, and took some getting used to. Understatement. I hyperventilated about halfway up the mountain, screaming that I was going to fall off. As we got close to the top, Mark explained how to get off the chair lift. Knowing how to do something, and physically doing it are two different things. I faceplant it immediately off the chairlift, and a little Japanese woman struggles to help me to my feet.

Then there was another 20 minutes of struggle to get over to the second, less crowded run down the mountain. I start going down, way too fast for my comfort level. I'm screaming bloody murder down about half the mountain, until I can't take it anymore and force myself to fall down. Mark skis up behind me, telling me I was doing great. Lie. Another 10 minutes of struggle as I try to get back up. This cycle repeats at least twice until I reach the bottom. I tell Mark I have to go to the bathroom, so he goes again while I wait.

We get on the chair lift a second time, without hyperventilating like the first time. Progress. We get to the top, and the workers must have remembered me because they are outside the hut, ready to catch me if needed. This time I make it off the lift, ski down the little hill and THEN fall. Yep. I'm a winner.  

Another 20 minutes of struggle to get over to the second, less crowded run. I'm all lined up and ready to go when I make the mistake of looking at the lodge at the bottom.

"OH MY GOD. MARK! IT'S SO FAR AWAY. I CAN'T. I CAN'T GO. I'M SCARED."

As patiently as he can muster, Mark waits a bit until I can calm down. I break into hysterics and begin crying. Embarrassing doesn't even begin to describe it. Small children are effortless gliding down the mountain on either side of me. Mark reminds me I have to get down. Okay. I sideways pizza at a snail's pace, while Mark grows increasingly more impatient. I tried turning and picked up some "major" speed. I bail again. After force falling about six or seven times, Mark is completely fed up and says he'll hold on to me to slow me down. Yeah, that's real safe, trust me.

We finally make it to the bottom at which point I decide to call it a day. I'm emotionally exhausted. I post up in the lodge and work on something that I'm great at...drinking a beer.

We get back to Misawa at about 6 p.m., and starving, we decide to hit up Kappa Sushi. Kappa is a sushi-go-round and all the plates are about ¥100, a little more than a $1.

On my actual birthday, we checked out Les Miserables and finished the night at CoCo's Curry. My office gave me a unique cake of Rockstar and beef jerky. They know me well. :)

Overall it was a pretty eventful weekend. Cheers to 27 - harder, better, faster, stronger.