We decided to stay platonic, yet we still went on a snowboarding trip together. That trip turned out to be one of the most challenging experiences I’ve ever had traveling with another person.
For several days, I lived something close to a military lifestyle. To make the most of the trip, I had to wake up at 5:40 a.m. in the morning so we could pick up the rental car. The CEO even called the car owner early to coordinate logistics (poor car owner), probably for better efficiency.
Every day followed an intense routine: aggressive snowboarding in the day, coworking together in the evening. It was completely different from what I had imagined, no sipping tea by the fire pit, no relaxed conversations about life. When I asked if we could spend a little more quality time together, the only option was playing speed chess so they can go back to work.
The most difficult part of the trip was snowboarding. The moment we arrived at the resort, I was already being left behind, forced to figure everything out on my own. They told me they had trained themselves on difficult blue slopes until their bodies were covered in bruises on their very first day, because “fear is only in your imagination” and “you have to keep falling to learn.”
So, as a beginner, I followed them onto a terrifying blue trail. It was deeply traumatizing. Standing on the tip of mountain, I suddenly realized how exposed I was, there was no protection. Fxxk. If I slid off the slope, I could roll down the mountain or bumped into trees. But then the CEO slid away, leaving me alone, buried in snow, not knowing what to do or how to survive.
I tried to stand up again and again, but I couldn’t. When I looked downhill, a snow bulge blocked my view, I couldn’t see anything. There was almost no one else around that day. The snow was heavy, visibility was terrible, and I sat there completely helpless.
I panicked. I didn’t even know how to switch sides, so I tried to take off my snowboard. The moment I did, my snowboard slipped away and flew downhill, nearly hitting someone in front of me. Soon after, the rescue team arrived and took me off the mountain.
That experience mirrored the trip as a whole. The CEO did whatever they wanted, and I often felt like I was on a solo trip rather than traveling with someone else. As a person who naturally thinks about others and prioritizes shared experiences, this was deeply uncomfortable. Yet in those moments, I had no choice but to practice detachment, acceptance, and self-interest. Every time I caught myself wishing for closeness or a meaningful shared experience, I had to shut that thought down and ask instead: What does Esther want right now? “Us” was not the priority, myself was.
Throughout the trip, I noticed patterns I’ve seen in many tech founders around me: self-centricity, extreme confidence, constant focus on what they’re good at, and relentless negotiation for what they want. Everything revolves around them. Most of the time, it’s done politely and kindly, but the philosophy is the same. I constantly felt that I had to fight for myself internally, or else I would shrink more and more around them.
On the third day, I looked back at the blue trail where I had been rescued and felt even more fear than I had on the first day. Still, I decided to try again. I trained intensely. I walked from downhill to uphill many times like a idiot, gradually increasing the incline to match my comfort level. I experimented with different angles, observed the terrain, studied how others moved, and tested different ways to fall safely. I used every bit of knowledge and experience I had to counter my instinctive fear.
Then I went back to that same terrifying hill, the exact spot where I had once sat hopelessly in the snow.
This time, I calmed myself. I planned my route in my head, stayed present, focus on the techniques I’ve learned, and made it down with very few falls.
At the bottom, I looked up and felt a deep sense of accomplishment. I realized something important: I am very smart.
I may not have the brute-force fearlessness that the CEO has, but through strategy, observation, and learning, I have my own way of overcoming difficulty. I don’t rush blindly forward, I observe, strategize, and move with intention.
I rose to meet the challenge, the fear, and the stress that this trip placed in front of me, and I did it on my own terms. While I admired their accomplishments, I discovered something more important — I love who I am, and my strength comes from a power that is entirely my own.
this was a beautiful read! the way you made your way back to the same slope with a different way of thinking. there was a lot of lessons I took from that.