The Triumph. I am flying down the mountain. Flying. The thin layer of plastic and metal under my feet is barely making contact with the fresh powder snow. There is strip of loose and jagged rock walling me in on the left. On the right it is a cliff, a 15 foot drop. My snowboard is approximately 12 inches wide. Beneath me the strip of white is no more than 13 inches wide. Gusting winds whip ice crystals off the rocks above and pelt my face like sheets of sandpaper. An unexpected rock jets up from the ground a few feet ahead. Before I can calculate its height and length I am up and over it, landing safely back on the main trail. It is a soft landing, though not exactly graceful.

"Its about time!" Al yells over to me before I can re-orient myself. "What happened, did you stop for coffee?"

I cannot even formulate a coherent response to my brother's taunt due to the jolts of adrenaline pulsing up my spine.

As he examines the narrow path from which I have haphazardly catapulted he adds, "Man I cant believe you cleared that rock. I was expecting the yard sale of the century!"

The Definition. A "yard sale" is when someone crashes with gloves, hat, goggles and other equipment flying in all directions. The aftermath appears to be a body lying in a yard sale. It is the sort of thing elementary school brats enjoy shouting from the chair-lift. For many a winter I was a yard sale centerpiece until I learned an invaluable lesson in snowboard psychology.

The Bets. Rewind to six years ago. I first got into snowboarding after taking a job at a rental shop. As the rookie on the job I was in charge of fitting the "first-timers," a.k.a. people who had literally never been on a board before. To break the monotony I started making bets with my co-workers on how long the renters would last. When customers filled out their rental forms we would write on the back of them what time we expected their return.

Our best clues were renters' facial expressions and the tone of their voices. I knew immediately who was overconfident, fearless, and careless, verses the tentative and cautious ones. At first we thought the fearless ones would be the early returns because, of course they would fall more, collide with others on the hill, and/or become discouraged that they were not as good as they imagined. We assumed the hesitant ones would be patient and careful not to fall or collide. After a few bets we realized that the reverse was true and the least confident were the earliest to return.

The Theory. There is a theory in the study of interpersonal communication called a "self-fulfilling prophesy." The idea is that people become what they believe they are. Mohammed Ali never said, "There are others who can beat me, some of my opponents are bigger and stronger." It never mattered who was listening, Ali's famous line was "I am the world's greatest." Ali was not always the best fighter, but eventually he became what he believed he was.

The Lesson. There is neither etiquette, direction arrows, nor speed limits on the beginner slope. Collisions and yard sales are inevitable, but the fearless first-timers believe that they are experts from the start. That bullheaded mentality is what makes them into experts. The hesitant renters hardly last a full day, nevermind coming back for more.

As an experienced boarder I took that revelation to the next level. Looking back I can hardly believe that I jumped a 10 inch rock while teetering on the edge of a 15 foot drop. After my brother shot ahead and veered off the main trail all I kept thinking was, "This doesn't look safe, but if he can do it, so can I."

Had I doubted, even for a split-second, that I could conquer the path my brother just took, I probably would have slowed down, lost my balance and fell all 15 feet. If I dodged the rock to the right, you could have called me Wily Coyote, because I would be plummeting to my snowy death before recognizing the blunder. Finally, I might have attempted clearing it to the left, skidding across loose stones, surrendering all control, and then falling back off to the right. Granted I might have hit a tree on the way down, breaking my fall and avoiding absolute fatality. Either way there would be more body parts than winter apparel at that yard sale. Fortunately I avoided the entire situation by way of a self-fulfilling prophecy. I swallowed my fears, knowing that I was better than my brother was, and jumped the rock straight on.

The Conclusion. If you believe you can survive the unexpected bend, cliff, or jump, you are right. If you believe that you will crash and fall, you are also right. And if you believe you can avoid the Yard Sale, you've got what it takes.

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