Two Sundays of Boreal

Dear parents of small, defenseless children,

My name is Courtney. I am a tank. If your innocent, sweet, product of your loins is in my way when I’m bombing down the slopes at exceptional speed, I hate to break it to you, but it’s going down. This is called Natural Selection. My bones may very well be made of steel, such is not the case for the delicate bones of your offspring… it’s going to hurt. Need I remind you that impact is double the speed of momentum (or whatever the fuck those physics blokes say)? Regardless, I go fast. Your kid won’t stand a chance. Also, don’t leave your kid unattended in the middle of the mountain. What da fuuuuhhh???


the Tank, Courtney


So last Sunday I demolished a kid… completely destroyed him.

Max and I were deemed “too good” to participate in the Noob Race that NorCal Snowboarders was hosting, so, being the cocky motherfuckers that we are we got to boasting.

Max tells me: “It’s ok Courtney, we both know I would have won anyways.”

SAY WHAAAAT??? My confidence is shot right now, has been for a long while and it’s gonna take a lot to pick it up, but that doesn’t mean my ego wasn’t insulted by that statement.

I timidly – timidly, you won’t hear me admit that I’m walking quietly often! – accept the challenge to a race. First down the mountain wins.

I’m on the lift about ready to puke. My stress tolerance is gone right now, such a pity, and Max taunts me for the entire ride. We get off, lock ourselves in the boards, and… GO.

I start off slow. The top of the course is a bit steep and a fall here would surely kill what little confidence I hold so I take it easy. He’s on a steady pace already, but it’s nothing I can’t catch up to…

Down the steep slope… time to pick up speed.

Point my nose down and charge; keep my body sleek to lower air resistance; be careful of my edge control. Gaining. Gaining. Closer… oh shit! He just fell! Lean forward! Charge harder! I’VE GOT THIS! VICTORY IS MIN-

And that’s when I saw the child.

Completely alone… like a deer in the headlights, he slowly adjusted his shoulders to see what sounded the alarm. He made no effort to avoid me, instead he just stood there with the stupidest expression I’ve ever seen in my life. Granted, he had virtually no time to think but I know for a fact that any other creature would have at least tried to avoid the horrific impact of 145 pounds of blonde, muscle, and thunder thighs.

I knew that at my speed and my position I could do some serious damage, and I knew I couldn’t adjust my direction to avoid him, so I bailed hoping that my plush ass would hit the boy instead of my potent shoulders.

Butt bomb: direct hit. “OOOOH SHIT!!!” I screamed on collision. I was so tense that I thought I had herniated my entire gastrointestinal tract as I bounced under him.

Such a distinct cry… sounded a lot like a goat dying slowly: “mmmrrrrraaaaaaaaaaawww…” (and mind you, the mmm part was quietest with the aawww part the the loudest).

And then his dad flails out of nowhere, screaming crazy Hindu. I swear to God, they both came out if the ground.

Fuck. I hit an Indian. Shit couldn’t be worse. At this point I am the White Devil.

Some other little kid is crying, thought I killed his brother. Relax little dude, you’re wound tighter than a jack rabbit on crack. More crazy Hindu gibberish and I’m starting to feel like a terrible human being, but let’s face it… the kid was fine. I knew from the way I hit him the worst damage I could have done was a deep tissue bruise to his thigh. And to add insult to injury they made me stick around to fill out a collision report where I was asked to describe the accident: “completely destroyed a small child,” I answered.

Ski Patrol tells me they’ve been dealing with this family’s pisspoor attitude all day and that the kid had ski lessons in 30 minutes that he didn’t want to attend. I was a blessing in disguise.


This last time, however, I took the beating. It was my fifth time on a board and I wanted to get front edge control down to an art.

A few sassy spins and I’m feeling confident.


Hip on ice. Hit it just right too. And it’s my bad hip. Dear Max half carried me out of Boreal.

The thing to know with me is that when I’m in genuine pain or discomfort beyond or at my threshold I don’t cry, I just stop smiling and grow quiet (if I ever cry shiz has hit the fan!) Not a chuckle escaped my lips and I halfassed a grin when I saw his worried face. What a sweetheart: he carried my board and half of me to my car.

So basically, my hip is fine but it’s gonna hate me when I’m older.


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