Finding Success in My Water Skiing Fail

Earlier this summer we spent a weekend at the lake with family.

One quiet Saturday morning, we kayaked up and down the shore.

I fulfilled my lifelong ambition to ride a jetski (although certain parties present claim I didn’t go fast enough to truly experience a jetski).

And then I decided to water ski.

I’ve never water skiied. I’ve never anything skiied. I did go tubing on a youth retreat twenty years ago, but that has been the sum of my experience with speedboats.

I didn’t particularly want to ski, but I didn’t know when the opportunity might present itself again. For me, missed opportunities rank somewhere up there with missed chocolate cake.

The kids and Paul and I did some not-too-crazy tubing in the morning to become accustomed to the sensation of being pulled behind the boat. In the afternoon, Paul took his turn on the skis, managing to stand up on his second try and skiing for quite awhile.

Then it was my turn.

I was reasonably anxious. I decided not to hide this fact from the kids.

“I’m nervous, but I want to try,” I said, hoping they would pick up on my go-getter attitude and be inspired to a lifetime of excellence.

I strapped on the skis, hopped into the water, got into position……and twisted around backwards. Somehow I ended up floating on my stomach, with my legs crossed behind me and my skis sticking straight up into the air. (If you are picturing a Goofy cartoon right now, you have an accurate idea of how this looked.)

I kicked and turned, trying to right myself. When it became obvious that I was stuck for good, the boat circled around to get me.

Scrambling back into the boat, I was greeted by alarmed children who had not been amused to see their mommy floundering in the water. We decided to take the kids back to the dock and try again once they were otherwise occupied.

“Mommy is going to try to ski again. I’ll see you soon,” I said brightly, hoping to inspire great works of art through my indomitable spirit.

Once again I put on skis, jumped into the water, tried to grab the rope….actually grabbed the robe after it drifted past me the first time….got into position only to find I was facing the wrong way…..got turned around…..bobbed patiently up and down while waiting for the boat to start……experienced forward motion as the boat started to move……and felt my left ski pop off, twisting my foot in the process.

I was done for the day.

I limped back inside the lakehouse. “Did you ski?” everyone wanted to know.

“No, but I tried,” I said.

I found that my effort was not meaningless because it was without success. The process of pushing through my fear and jumping into the water that first time felt like moving an emotional mountain.

That struggle, staring fear and risk in the face and deciding to press on, has left me walking tall, thankful for the journey that has brought me to this inner place of unknown bravery. My future water skiing attempts must wait for another day, but for now I’ll sit and savor the sweet taste of my unsuccessful tries.