#33 Today I put downhill skis on for the first time in 22 years. The last time I shoop shooped down a ski hill I ended up being carried down by a (very cute) ski patroller on a sled. If you’ve ever seen someone being pulled down a hill on the sled and thought, that looks like so much fun!, it’s not. The only reason one gets dragged down in one is because they’re injured. Pull an injured person downhill over hills and bumps, it’s unbelievably painful.
So two surgeries later for a torn-to-shreds ACL (anterior cruciate ligament – in other words *#&%#@! painful knee injury), I just could not face getting back on that ski hill. I had no desire whatsoever. Perhaps I’m far too wimpy for my own good, but it definitely scared me off the hill for many years. Then when I began to entertain the idea of getting back to it, I just couldn’t afford it.
But today I went back. I did it. I got on those skis, the chairlift scooped me up and delivered me safely to the top of the (baby) hill and I proceeded to snowplow my way down. What I didn’t expect was that it all came back to me. Before I knew it, I was past snowplow and shoop shooping my way down. I tried a slightly bigger hill. And then a bigger one still.
A friend joined me who also hasn’t been on skis in 20 years and we both did amazingly well. So although I don’t have any crazy drama to report, I can definitely say that I am proud, exhausted and soon-to-be sore. Thank goodness for baths and wine.
Image credits: leks / 123RF Stock Photo