Back in the Saddle

When we woke up yesterday morning we'd had four inches or so of new snow overnight, and the snow machines had worked overtime so there was about a foot of fresh powder. I decided I couldn't let that hill lick me. Well, at least I couldn't let hills in general lick me. I could let Sterling lick me. This time.

We dropped the kids off in ski camp again and Erik, his aunt Barb, and I headed up Lower Morse. I like calling it Lower Morse because otherwise I'd have to call it the bunny hill which sounds wimpy. So we headed up Lower Morse and slowly made our way down. I've never skied in that much powder before (I've skied a total of about 10 days in my life so I don't have much to draw from) and it was both fun and more challenging. It felt a bit like going over the wake when you water ski - not sure how it will affect you. The first run down was tough because I was concentrating hard on not going too fast, which meant my legs were dying by the bottom. We did about 5 or 6 runs before I said I'd had enough, but by the end I felt my confidence coming back and was actually starting to enjoy it. As much as someone who really isn't a fan of downhill skiing can enjoy it.

Aside from blistery winds, it was a decent morning. At one point we went straight for the main lodge instead of left toward the chair lift. I came to a point where the snow was untouched and about two feet deep, right next to the snow machine. I'm not sure what happened but my assessment is that I lost power and got blown over by the snow machine while I was at a dead stop. I managed to look like an idiot by myself this time, as I tried in vain to push myself back to standing (my arm went all the way into the snow up to my armpit).

My knee still feels weird if I straighten my leg completely but I'm thankful I was able to get back up and not come away with a renewed injury. We'd back on level ground in Minnesota again.