One of the other things that we did while we were in Lake Placid was to visit the Olympic Ski Jumping Complex. We watched the freestyle skiers training at the freestyle pool and had a chance to stand on the podiums.
And then came the ski jumps. Last year, at the Calgary Olympic Park, I found myself on a chair lift with my mom and my sister, going up to the jumps. It wasn't until my butt hit the seat that I realized how terrifying the ride was going to be. I. Hate. Heights.
This year was no different.
I figured that I'd model good parenting - you know - the 'don't let fear stop you' kind of parenting. So up we went. Eyes closed, gripping the bar, and holding my breath for the three minute ride. Once at the top it was a beautiful view.
But what goes up must come down. And this was my trip:
It's hard to tell but I didn't move. Not a muscle. I white knuckled that bar all the way down.
Two Olympic parks. Two chairlifts.
That's it. I'm done.
Next time I will parent differently. Next time I will parent with honesty.
And I'll keep my feet on the ground.
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