I was skiing with Charlotte today: early season, fresh legs, but she hadn’t really been on skis since last year. As she took off down the mountain away from me, something inside me just blurted out, “You’ll feel it!” I wasn’t coaching her, I wasn’t trying to give advice—I was saying something that I thought might rekindle something in her at that exact moment when I realized it was bigger than just skiing.
Because when you put yourself out there—when you do something hard—you feel it. The rush, the fear, the uncertainty, the pride. And as a parent teaching your kid to ski, you really have to and will, feel it.
First, you’ll feel the nerves. That tiny, anxious voice asking if this is too soon, if they’re too small, if you’re even cut out for this, are you doing it wrong? The doubts creep in as you wrestle them into their boots, haul their gear while they flat-out refuse to carry anything, and watch them fall over time and time again before ever making it onto a chairlift. You’ll feel like questioning everything.
Then, you’ll feel the frustration. The stubborn refusals. The “I can’t do it” whines. The full-body meltdowns in the snow over nothing. You’ll wonder why you’re doing this—why you thought it was a good idea to teach a kid a sport that involves cold, gravity, and the very real possibility of disaster.
But keep going. Because you will feel joy, the unscripted, undoctored, true, raw kind.
That giggle when they slide a few feet without falling. Feeling like they want to do it again. The excitement when they start to pick up speed. The way their face lights up when they get it, even for a second. That pure, unfiltered happiness is what makes it all worth it.
Then, just as you’re breathing easy, you’ll feel the fear. The moment they stop listening and take off a little too fast. The heart-dropping second when they miss a turn and head straight for the trees. If you’re like me, literally the fear everytime I watch Victoria tear down as fast as she can on the steep part of a Giant Slalom course, waiting for something terrible to happen only to feel absolutely thrilled when she crosses the finish line (yes, that fear is real, and my heart rate easily doubles or more each time). The realization that you can’t always control the outcome. That’s parenting in a nutshell, isn’t it? The gut-wrenching moment of letting go and hoping they’ve learned enough to handle it.
And then—pride. Not just in them, but in yourself.
Because you did this. You showed up, you pushed through, you embraced the challenge instead of sitting it out. You taught them something that will stick with them for life—not just how to ski, but how to push past fear, how to fall and get up, how to lean into the hard stuff. You’ll feel like doing more, taking on more adventure, seeing where this can go.
At some point, you’ll feel something deeper—gratitude.
For the time spent together. For the laughter and the ridiculous moments. For the lessons buried in the struggle. For the fact that you chose to be in this moment instead of watching from the sidelines.
Because the truth is, when you do something hard—when you really put yourself out there—you don’t just go through it. You feel it. And that’s how you know it matters.
So if you’re wondering whether you should teach your kid to ski, whether you should take on something new, whether you should push past the fear—know this:
You’ll feel it. And you won’t regret it.
How will you share this feeling?
