Wipe Out

Let's see...how do I feel? What would be a good analogy? The Tin Man from The Wizard of Oz? An over sized Utah Jazz bobble-head? Really, when you think about it, skiing is a weird sport.

"Si, have you really thought about this pastime? How it would look, for example, to aliens from outer space? What would they think of the fact that we like to strap on our weight in gear and slide down steep hills at high speed?"

"If aliens arrive, their opinion of skiing is going to be the least of our worries. And, anyway, they're aliens. They'd think everything we do is weird."

It's been a stormy winter and most days when I've been out skiing, the visibility has not been good. I skied slowly, 'cause I couldn't see. I should have stuck with that plan. Yesterday, I chose to attempt a more...uh...assertive style, which is why I am unhappy today.

The first time I wiped out, it was sort of funny. I saw some sweet-looking powder that I wanted to ski, so I went off the groomed run and started to make my way over to it. I went off the piste, hit the soft stuff too hard, and didn't adjust my technique quickly enough. I felt myself losing it and tried to get back onto the run, but went ass over teacups before I could quite get there. The only body part that got back on-piste was my head; it slammed hard enough against the surface that my goggles flew about 6 feet. I was lying there, watching the little birdies circling around my head and this guy skied over. He was very good-looking (the kind of guy I always meet when I'm in compromising situations). Muzzily, I thought to myself, "Cute! I wonder if he's ski patrol?" Looking back, I'm worried that I said this ALOUD, 'cause he then said, "I am a patroller; just not at this resort." Ack! Maybe I DID say it aloud! At any rate, he handed me my goggles, checked that I wasn't about to pass out, and he was gone. Who WAS that masked man?

Not a big deal. I felt sort of carsick for an hour or so, then had a headache for an hour or so, then I was fine. Today, however, my neck muscles would like everyone to know: they played a vital role in preventing my head from coming off and are now making a serious bid for recognition. I find myself thinking about huge cervical collars with longing. Oh! That would feel SO GOOD! Who knew that holding one's head up was so much work? I appreciate you, neck muscles! Really!

This is the bummer: I wiped out again, later that day, in the exact same damn place! We were skiing at both Alta and Snowbird, so we're talking about a lot of terrain. What are the chances that I would crash again, right there? So, yeah...headed toward the sweet powder-shot again, failed to adjust technique again, ass over teacups again. But this time, it was my knee, which is a giant pickle. I want to run in the Salt Lake Half-Marathon in mid-April, and I don't want anything messing with my training routine! I sat for a bit, trying to assess the damage while Si stood there waiting.

"How is it? Do I need to get ski patrol?"

Yikes! Y'know, it's one thing to WANT a hunky patroller to rescue you, and a whole different thing to NEED a hunky patroller to rescue you. The fuss; the ride in "blood-wagon", while people look at you speculatively...

"No! How embarrassing."

"Well, in that case, can you ski well enough to get to the top of the tram? Then you can take the tram down."

Hundreds of people ride the tram UP every hour. You know who rides the tram DOWN? No one! "'Scuse me, Ms. Tram Operator? Would you mind if I ride down with you? My knee hurts."

"No! How embarrassing!"

"Well, in that case, you'll just have to ski the whole thing."

Obviously, I managed that; and I would like to say that it was hard work, what with the distance, the knee injury, and the 12 tons of ego I felt it necessary to transport intact. Which I guess just goes to show that I can't be hurt too badly. I hope my body gets the memo.