For the past two weeks I've been Stretched. Pulled. Pushed. Maxed out.

Several times in the past 15 days saying, "I don't want to do this anymore. I chose this course, so I can unchoose it. I can just go back to not being stretched and pushed and pulled."

Life in the comfort zone doesn't hurt you.

But it doesn't help you either.

New challenges are hard. Which is why I've been avoiding them for a while. Then one came my way completely uninvited, but when I heard about it, I knew I had to do it.

And I've been here before. A few times.

On a winter day, not too long ago, I had the same emotions. I can relive it vividly without much effort.

It's cold out, snowing lightly. I'm walking into the locker room. I'm tired. My tailbone is hurting. There's a burning in my right knee from repeated falls. I hurt pretty much everywhere, I'm physically exhausted, and the day is just beginning.

I'm in way over my head. Why did I think I could do this?

I take a deep breath and resolve that unless a miracle happens, this'll be my last day. I'll give it a shot for one. more. day.

At my locker sitting on the bench. I pull on my crash pads. I started the week without them. That was a mistake. I pull on my pants that drag on the ground without my boots I tighten the belt and sit back down. Why can't I just stay here?

I pull on my left boot, stomp the heel on the floor to make sure I'm in. Then I pull hard on the laces nearly cutting off the circulation. I repeat the process with the right boot. Then I get up in my soccer goalie stance and rock back and forth a little - the final check to make sure my boots will hold me in. It's a process.

Everybody around me seems glad to be here. They're clearly having a different experience I am. I'm too old for this. The next oldest new guy is 24 - exactly half my age.

I zip my coat to the top, because it's cold outside. I put on my helmet, pull on my gloves, make sure my pass is in my pocket.

"Here goes." I say to myself and walk over to get my snowboard from the top rack in the team gear room.

I'm out in the cold again, walking to the post. The post is where we meet for training. The post is where, if I make it that far, I'll meet my learners. I'm not going to make it that far. I'm not going to make it past today.

I'm not the last of the class to arrive at the post. There's Jerome - pronounced like Jeremy - he's from CA. A sponsored rider who's full of positivity and always encouraging me - no matter how slow I am and how long he and the class have to wait for me. He's 18, and I want to be like him someday.

It's not that I haven't tried. I've done all the homework, I've done all the drills, and except for the that little stretch of black diamond in the middle of one of our paths down the mountain, I've done all the terrain. I'm just much slower and much less confident than the rest of the group. I'm bravely doing everything they've asked me to do, but the rest of my team quite literally cut their teeth in the terrain park. I didn't strap on this stupid board until the year I turned 40.

What am I even doing here? Three days in, I'm exhausted, dehydrated, and bruised and aching.

The rest of my team of new instructors are here now. Maybe Jaime won't show up. Maybe they'll just send us home. Nope, there she is, ah crap.

She tells us the plan for the morning and then we head off to the high-speed quad lift. There are 7 of us in the class. We can't all ride together so Jaime sends the rest of the team up in two chairs and she rides with me.

"I know this is discouraging." she said. Apparently, I'm pretty easy to read. "But I don't want you to quit. You already know more than anyone you're ever going to teach, and I don't care if you're an expert rider. You have something I don't see in the others. I can tell you want to teach. So don't give up. We're almost through this and this is the hardest it's ever going to get."

Jaime's pretty good with the speeches.

She's also pretty good at reading people. She's right about me. I AM discouraged. But, I also do love to teach.

I decide to stick it out. Without going into much detail, it got much worse that day, but Jaime found a way to get me through it and even provide me with an experience that strengthened my resolve to stay.

For the past two weeks, I've been stretched and pulled and pushed again.

I'm in way over my head. What made me think I could do this? Some of the new tech has lapped me a few times, since I pulled into the pit a 4 years ago. But in the past two weeks, I spent the time I had to, late nights and early mornings, and I'm back in the pack.

Today, I feel like I've pushed through. Today I feel like the end of the third day of my snowboard instructor coaching. I'm bruised and sore, but I can see why I'm doing it. I'm doing it because Jaime was right. I want to teach. I've come through the hardest part. I get the opportunity to make managers better. I get the opportunity to make work better. And like Jaime said, I'm going to know more than anybody I ever teach.