It is not the activity so much, but more what comes with it. I was (un)lucky enough to go skiing for the first time this year (apparantly, the dry ski slope in Llangrannog doesn't count) in Switzerland as a friend of ours has a chalet there. Rather naively, I thought I'd take to it pretty well. WRONG!
I won't go into too much detail, but when you've been rescued by a snow plough a few hours into your first run, I suppose you should realise then that maybe skiing isn't for you.
Perhaps it's my own inadequacy that makes me dislike skiing (or more to the point, skiiers) and resent anyone who's better at it than me. However, I couldn't help but stifle a laugh when I went on a trip to Aosta (picturesque little town in the Italian mountains) and one of our group whined
"I can see that the town is beautiful, but for me this is so bittersweet because as a skiier, it's so sad to see that the snow has melted."
Me skiing. Or not.