Turning Thirty

With a month left of my twenties, I find myself taking serious stock in my time thus far. Are my choices leading me to the life I really want to be living, to the person that I really want to be.
One of the things that I do not do enough of is take risks. I have attended colleges that I knew I could handle, taken jobs that were well within my grasp, attempted hobbies that would not push me too far. I'm not trying to be arrogant, but there comes a point when things have come too easily, and you know that you are either lucky as hell, or not trying hard enough. There should be some failure in your life, right?
Well, with thirty-two days left to be a twenty-something I took a risk and plunged off the edge in to Baby Ruth. No, I did not take a candy bar challenge or anything. Instead, I let myself follow my friend Emily into a ski run in Snowmass that yesterday or even this morning, I would have said was well past my ability level. The first part of the run is steep, narrow and full of bumps. Big bumps. Actually more like large mounds. I slowly eased into the run, burying my skiis in two feet of powder. I was making turns, not great ones, but I wasn't always facing the same direction. After a little traverse and a few small but steep downhills we were cruising through trees and ducking branches. I was deep in powder, a little bit scared and loving every minute! It was the greatest thirty minutes of sheer skiing pleasure mixed with the exhiliration of success. I asked myself to push my comfort level and it paid off. Just as I'm ready to head on over to Buttermilk and join the serious X-Gamers with my newfound skills, I make the last little jump down to the catwalk and eat it in the snow. Brought quickly back to reality by the powder up my jacket, I realized that my goal for the day was not to hit a 1280 switch in the halfpipe - but to ask more of myself and of my life and that is what Baby Ruth means to me today.