Ski Catastrophe

Here's what you need to do right now - go to Youtube and find the most spectacular ski wipeout possible. Preferably it should be one on a medium slope, and the skiier should be on your left, gaining speed in a uncontrolled way. He (or she) should trip to the right, get the right leg trapped underneath his (or her) body, slide across the hill to your right, maybe flipping once or twice, and glide to a stop several feet before plunging over the edge of the mountain to his (or her) death. Oh, and all the while you should hear a strange "I'm out of control!" kind of scream coming from that person. Did you find it? No? Oh, maybe that's because no one on top of Sterling at Smuggler's Notch, Vermont, had their camera going this morning. If they had, they would have caught that exact scenario, starring me.

Thankfully I was in the best of hands - the president and the public relations director of the resort (read: excellent skiers) were right behind me, as was my former ski patrol husband. While small children swooped past me, chuckling under their breath, my family untangled me and helped me down to an easier place, from which I could navigate the rest of the way down. It wasn't pleasant, as I had to strike a balance between staying in control and not putting too much pressure on my knee. But I made it without incident.

Where did I go wrong? Well, I should have insisted on listening to the voice inside me that said, "I need to start at the bunny hill again." But I didn't, and the rest of my party was confident that I could join them on the bigger slopes. That confidence is now shattered, at least until I've refreshed myself on an easier hill.

But there will be no more hills today. Not sure if there will be tomorrow either, as my knee is officially tweaked. I thought it might be broken at first but the ski patrol said I'm good. But there's plenty to do at Smugg's that doesn't involve embarassing falls. If not for Erik, I would never attempt to downhill ski anyway. I much prefer cross country or snow shoeing. Anything with less potential for speed and injury.

The kids on the other hand will be surpassing me in skill within the next 24 hours. We caught up with them at lunch where they informed me that their ski instructor, Eric, would be taking them up the hill after lunch because they are now "experts." If only I could have started so young, I might have avoided today's debacle.