Yard Sale

About a week ago, I took a long slide down a steep, icy hill and still have the bruises up and down my legs to prove it. The original plan was to ski down. Though, once I got turned backwards between two giant ice moguls, I started my chaotic skid and could not stop. I slid, tumbled, lost one ski, then a pole, then the other pole, flopped over a few more times, spun onto my stomach, then super-manned down headfirst until I finally came to a stop, with one ski still attached. 

What just happened!? My quick self-assessment revealed that I was physically fine, yet deeply humbled. Not only do I consider myself a pretty darn good skier, my ungraceful plunge took place in full view of a populated chairlift. 

As I slowed to a stop, I thought for a moment of a friend’s fall theory. He believes that when you take a good fall on the ski slopes, lay there for a moment and be slow to get up. That way people feel bad for you instead of laugh at you. It’s a sound theory. Yet, I couldn’t help myself. After one big breath, I was so pleased to be intact that I popped out of my lone ski and started climbing back up the mountain to gather my gear. Fortunately, a crew of snowboarders took pity on me and brought everything down to save me the hike. Alas, skiers and snowboarders CAN get along. 

What can I say—it was a good old fashioned spring skiing yard sale! What an embarrassing debacle. What a ludicrous sport. What a bad decision to take a run down Ricochet on frozen slush. What… a big hole in my pants? Dang! What fun! I love it!