Lessons from Snowboarding: Falling, Learning, and Standing Back Up

If there is one thing I learned about myself as an adult, it is that when I want something, I hold onto it with relentless, unwavering focus. I might feel anxious. I might complain. I might even get scared. But I will see it through. Snowboarding became the clearest expression of that truth. Not because I was naturally good at it – at all – but because it refused to let me hide from myself. I find that tension – that demand from an activity that is unyielding and doesn’t play favorites, offers the best way for me to grow.

I began, somewhat unceremoniously, at Mammoth Mountain, strapped into a snowboard and deeply unsettled by the entire concept of bindings. This is where the concept of being a cool kid on the snow met reality. In snowboarding you are literally strapped into a board and going down a slope at variable speed.

Standing there during my first my group lesson in Mammoth Mountain, I remember feeling distinctly out of place in that first lesson. I was very aware that my body did not bend or recover the way others’ bodies seemed to. I have thick thighs from biking and other sports, which means that I can’t necessarily get up from falling the same way. Plus, I’m bottom heavy. And I was very aware of my blackness in a predominately non-black space.

But, I paid money to take the class – and I showed up. I fell repeatedly, stood back up, and quietly observed my own limitations without dramatizing them. It was not discouraging so much as clarifying. I understood immediately that my goal was achievable, but that in my forties, the route there would be different. I didn’t have the cool as shit “I used to skateboard” muscle memory. My path would be less linear and more deliberate. But, I deserved to learn how to hurl myself down a mountain just as much as the next person. So, why not?

My Snowboarding Gear

That realization shaped everything that followed. I wanted to invest in my own gear rather than continue renting, because commitment alters behavior.

For this, I headed to the Burton Flagship store in Santa Monica, California. There, I picked up my set:

I chose the Burton Felix Step On® Snowboard Boots and the Burton Step On® ReFlex Snowboard Bindings specifically because my body does not bend in the way that makes dealing with two strap bindings fun.

REI is another favorite store of mine. For my snowboard jacket, I opted with the Obermeyer Women’s Cosima Down Jacket. It has helped keep me comfortable and insulated for many trips in the snow. Plus, it looks stylish AF. Also, it’s easy to keep my mountain pass in the zipped arm sleeve. For my snowboarding bib, I opted for Burton Women’s Burton Reserve GORE-TEX 2L Bib Pants.

For my helmet, I chose one at Sports LTD in Woodland Hills. I walked it, was nice to the sales associate and she told me which helmets were on sale. I got the Smith Vantage Snow Helmet I saw online and wanted for 30% off because the color was from a previous season.

However, in conversation with Deja, another fellow black snowboarder, we realized that helmets really aren’t particularly made for people with large heads and full hair. For me, even thought the helmet technically fits my head, the Smith Vantage Snow Helmet is slightly smaller than I’ve grown to like.

After writing this section, I found myself  in Vermont to enjoy snowboarding at Sugarbush Resort. The morning of, I stopped at the Burton Snowboards Global Headquarters - Company Store. I ended up getting Anon Oslo WaveCel® Ski & Snowboard Helmet in size XL, in black.

While there, I also got my release bindings switched to interior release, my foot pads extended, had a miss installed gear reinstalled properly, adjusted my dials and rebalanced my board.

The results at Sugarbush Resort were transformative: I felt joy with my board. I trusted the flow of the experience because everything felt – easier.

For flights and general of transport my gear, I bought my Dakine Low Roller Snowboard Bag from Wave Rave in Mammoth Lakes.

Ikon Pass Vs mountain Day Pass

During one of our snowboarding experiences together, Deja suggested that I purchase the Ikon Pass. I will admit, it was  pragmatism that cut through hesitation. I’d already bought all the gear and spent hundreds on classes. So, if I was going to do this, I needed freedom to get it done.

After researching the differences between the EPIC Pass, IKON pass, Cali Pass, I ended up purchase the IKON Pass and the Cali Pass.

But, the one thing that you learn on your own is that you may buy a pass –  but nature may have other plans for you. For the 25 / 26 season, snow has been drastically low throughout many ski areas. So, even thought I bought my passes early in the season for the best discount – there are still variables outside of my control. However, with day passes running $300 a day – spending the front end amount on a system wide pass makes more financial sense.

Also, I would consider the Indy Pass. Or, buying a day pass at a local Independent resort.

The Lessons

After my first lesson at Mammoth, I took indoor lessons at Virtual Snow LA, where fear was softened just enough to allow muscle memory to develop. When my instructor suggested Mountain High as a practical training ground, snowboarding shifted from something aspirational to something accessible. It felt like it was for me. No longer was me getting on the snow reserved for expensive trips or perfect conditions. Instead, it began to feel I could practice and refine – less than 2 hours from Los Angeles.

Each experience added a layer of understanding, both technical and personal. One time, while boarding with Deja in  Mammoth, during a whiteout blizzard with visibility so poor it reduced everything to instinct and with one goal: just get down the mountain safely.

Palisades Tahoe taught me when to pivot rather than push; Breckenridge brought altitude, discipline, and perspective. Along the way, I learned how fear actually lives in my body, how easily other people project their cautionary tales, and how to hold those stories without absorbing them. I sprained a muscle in my leg. I listened to warnings about broken bones and torn ligaments. Still, I stayed with it. Not stubbornly, but intelligently.

When winter returned for the following season, I did not rush. I prepared. Another indoor session at Virtual Snow LA reawakened muscle memory. I took that to Copper Mountain, where snowboarding was reframed in a way that stayed with me: speed as potential, flow as something earned, falling as information rather than failure.  I carried that with me back to Mammoth, joining Deja and returning to Canyon Lodge where the journey had begun.

Getting off lifts proved just as challenging – falling, again and again, in full view of strangers. But the difference over time time was the absence of shame. Simple guidance replaced judgment. I wasn’t deficient; I was learning.

What I’ve Learned

Now on runs, I make decisions that honored my body rather than pleasing the gaze of traditional compliance. I ride with one foot unclipped when needed. I adjust my pace. When I fall, I might take a few minutes – but I stand back up.

Falling has now lost its emotional charge. At one point, my snowboard quite literally escaped me – sliding down the hill without me –  while I followed, stunned and laughing, on my backside. By then, I had already lived through every fear I’d imagined. All that remained was to continue.

Slowly, my body has relaxed. My awareness shifted into getting out of my head and more into my body. Gradually, I stopped managing every movement. Slowly, I began riding.

Everything my instructors had said aligned at once. I flowed – not perfectly, but genuinely.

life lessons on the snow

Later, over hot toddies at Canyon Lodge with Deja, it finally became clear that snowboarding had never been the point. It was simply the most honest mirror I’d encountered in years. Every lift ride, every fall, every spike of fear posed the same quiet question: retreat, or recommit. And each time, I chose to stay.

This year taught me that progress doesn’t come from eliminating anxiety or waiting for perfect conditions. It comes from showing up anyway. From adapting instead of quitting. From trusting that momentum follows commitment.

I have no desire to chase black diamonds or prove anything beyond my own calm. I’m content on blues and greens – the terrain where I feel steady, present, and quietly capable.

What I learned about myself is simple, but hard earned: yes, I can do hard things. I can fall, get the wind knocked out of me, sit for a moment while my body recalibrates – and then stand back up again.

And wanting something deeply, staying with it relentlessly, and finding flow in the mess  – isn’t just how you learn to snowboard.

It’s how you live well.

Adventures in Snow

My desire to continue to learn and expand, along with my Ikon and Cali Pass have  taken me around the United States. Below are reviews of my experiences: