•    HOME   
•    NEWS   
•    BUSINESS   
•    INTERNATIONAL   
•    TECH   
•    SPORTS   
•    LIFE & TIMES   
•    OPINION   
•    MY JAKARTA   
•    BLOGS   
•    EYEWITNESS   

In general I’m not a very sporty person. At school I was always one of those people who got picked last for any team game, whether netball or hockey, and even then it was normally to round off the numbers or because my friends felt sorry for me.

I didn’t use to mind. My height was never sufficient for any sport involving throwing a ball into a hoop. And I actually enjoyed being a fielder in hockey, well away from all those lethal hockey sticks being wielded by high-spirited schoolgirls. I did get into squash at one point, but after a while I couldn’t see the point or the fun in hitting a small rubber ball against the wall over and over again. So, for exercise these days, I content myself with swimming a few times a week. It’s solitary, stress-free and a great opportunity to indulge in uninterrupted daydreaming.

There is, however, one sport that I truly enjoy, perhaps because it’s not one that I can just go off and do whenever the desire strikes. For the past decade, downhill skiing, a sport that can only be done in winter and involves a trip to the mountains, has been an annual getaway that I look forward to with uncharacteristic excitement. Don’t get me wrong, when it comes to skill, I’m only a so-so skier who can now just about do the blue and red runs without getting my skis tangled or tumbling headlong down the slopes. Moreover, after a few days, skiing really kills my knees and often leaves my legs and feet swollen and sore. And if snow conditions are not good, or my skiing style is having an off day, it’s not rare that I come home from the holiday more exhausted than ever, not to mention with bruises and aches and pains.

So, what is it about skiing that I enjoy, especially seeing that very few of my friends and colleagues greet my proposal for a ski trip with even a modicum of enthusiasm. It’s too cold up on the mountain, says one. Sliding down a mountain at great speed sounds scary, protests another. A third, who has tried it, doesn’t like it. She had a problem with lifting her buttocks off the ground every time she fell down.

Indeed, for the newbie still trying to find her balance and getting used to walking around in big heavy boots, there really is no fun or joy in the sport. During my first few days of trying to learn to ski, I spent more time on the ground than standing up on the skis, let alone doing zigzags on the snow. As you lie face-down on the flattest part of the mountain with a mouthful of snow while little children whizz by you, normally this is the point when you curse with pain, humiliation and frustration and wonder why, at your age, you bother to waste so much time and energy on a sport you will never be very good at.

In a way, this is precisely the reason why I take to this sport where others, such as the genteel golf and the gentle yoga, leave me cold. Skiing has all the elements that appeal to my somewhat masochistic and solipsistic side. This is one sport that doesn’t involve scoring, competing with others or winning. But it does require you to conquer your fear, overcome your frustrations and to put up with never-ending tumbles and constantly falling on your behind. Any sane adult with better things to do would most likely laugh it off as an activity best mastered when young and then sensibly work on his or her after-ski drinking skills. A holiday, especially to far-off lands, should best be enjoyed free of stress and bruises.

Skiing is hard work. Not just in terms of planning where and which mountain in the world to go to, but in the whole process of getting ready to ski. After piling three layers of clothes under your thick ski jacket, putting on your wooly hat, neck muffler, gloves and ski goggles, the time comes for the most tiring part: putting on the ski boots. Heavy, chunky Robocop boots that are impossible to put on without much straining and struggling. It’s an effort beneath all the thick clothing that is already burning up your precious breakfast calories. You’re exhausted even before you’re anywhere near the slopes.

Then comes the carrying of your heavy skis to the chairlift or the gondola that takes you to the top of the mountain. An experience not for the faint of heart nor those who suffer from vertigo. As you make your way to the top, however, excitement creeps up. And by the time you slide off the chair with the skis beneath your feet, the heaviness and the exhaustion is gone. Instead there’s only anticipation.

And when the skis take you gliding down the powdery snow, with the breathtaking mountain peaks around you, above nothing but an endless bright cerulean sky like in some picture postcard, and in your ears only the sound of the wind and the swishing and scraping of snow beneath your skis, then you feel nothing but joy and exhilaration. Because there’s only you and the snowy mountain.

Desi Anwar is a senior anchor at Metro TV. She can be contacted at desianwar.com and dailyavocado.net.