My epic fail.

I’m sliding down a hill with a slightly worn out board still separating me from the wet slush. Throughout the day, I have worked up my courage the way courage can easily be manufactured given the right circumstances. At this point I was sure I could handle whatever the semi-natural (or shall we say “accidentally man made”) feature ahead of me can throw at me. How I came to think such a thought is unknown to me, as it was only this winter that I strongly preferred to keep the entire length of my board on the ground at all times. Still, boldly certain, I crouched myself together as tight as I dared and picked up enough speed to make it up the hill ahead, and then some. The uphill bit passed in an instant as I eagerly awaited the view of the other side of this corner-thingy. I hadn’t actually bothered to check, though I had passed by it several times. I can imagine my jaw dropping as I glide off from the top and into thin air, looking for my landing. I say “imagine” because at this point in time there wasn’t room in my head for much else then the cold revelation that there wasn’t really that much on the other side of that corner. Epic! There is no other word in my (English) vocabulary that quite describes this moment. I was flying, I was falling, I was crashing and there was nothing I could do about it. Just to top it up, I had actually put myself in this situation of my own accord. As much as my brain twisted and turned, I couldn’t find anything even remotely similar to an explanation.

The landing had probably been worn down from excessive use or melted away by the sun. Whatever the cause, it had been replaced by a 2-3 meter drop and a landing as flat as a pancake. Maybe this was the make shift halfpipe I had overheard someone talking about? If it was, they probably hadn’t meant for it to be entered from the air. When I hit the ground, my poor legs didn’t stand a chance in their feeble attempts to withstand the force of the impossibly flat spot I landed in. The fact that I land with my board in the wrong direction and flat based didn’t exactly help. They gave way like jello and I was forcefully lined up with the ground. This somehow didn’t hurt. Relived, I rolled myself around to face skywards and sat up for a moment. Then I bounced back onto my feet, suddenly hyper aware that a bunch of people were in view farther down the hill, and some of them were watching me. I started to slide slowly downhill, checking if my body and mind still worked. Then I made a few slushy turns and even got in a few tiny jumps to take the edge of what had just happened. It was actually quite unbelievable. I had barely jumped before so this was by far my most dramatic and worst looking fall on a snowboard. Still it didn’t hurt at all, at least not right away.

It was only a little while later that I started to notice how much more troublesome the slush came to be all of a sudden. How I could barely walk in a straight line and how I almost fell over twice while changing into some dry clothes. My head wasn’t on quite straight apparently and suddenly I understood the feeling of being here and bin a dream at the same time. I was wearing a helmet and my head didn’t even touch down, but it haven’t been the same ever since my concussion.

I’m still morbidly fascinated this whole situation. I was thinking I’ve manage to change my mind set a bit since the two car accidents this spring, but I felt it was a bit forced and would take some time to settle if it ever did. To be honest I thought it would wear off quickly. It seems my lack of faith in my own brainwashing abilities is quite unfounded. Just the concept of me doing something like this didn’t fit in anywhere in the known reaches of my twisted mind. This is a bit worrisome to me, even though I did indeed set out to brainwash myself after the first accident in April. I didn’t actually thing it would work, at least not as good as this. I did not recognize myself in this situation. Even that same morning I wouldn’t have guessed in a million years that I would go and do something like this. Creepy! Had I not still had a healthy dose of self-restraint and fear still intact, I might already be plotting my next move. Maybe I’d make myself into a duck or something.

In the sketch below I am apparently falling on top of a completely unrelated copy from a book about languages and a section about cases. “NORSK ER ET LITE SPRÅK SOM ER I FERD MED Å DØ UT og andre myter om språk” by Guro Fløgstad and Anders Vaa. Really good book actually, go get it!

It started to rain just as I was about to leave. I took this while just sitting around on a rock, waiting for my head to level itself out enough for me to drive back down to Stryn at the very least.

I managed eventually, but I was grinding my teeth the whole time, taking a lot of breaks and constantly analysing my own driving to be sure I would catch even the slightest sign that I should pull over. I had the funniest feeling that I needed to be really careful not to drift away mentally.