I was always athletic. Sure, some of it was forced. I was taken on ski trips before I could walk. We rode horses, went swimming. I remember none of this but there are photos to prove that baby Peggy was the game little sport. And some of that love of sports stayed with me.
I loved softball until breasts got in the way. I loved skiing but not the same way my hyper-competitive friends in Jr High and High School did--like it was a game of chicken and if you weren't willing to actually risk killing yourself every run you weren't really skiing. I always liked the wide open bowls more than the narrow rutted chutes. I liked the beauty of the carved turns, the gentle spray of snow on a sudden perfect stop. I liked the clothes. When I was skiing, skis were long, children. It was harder then.
Last time I went skiing was early in the incarnation of Deer Valley. My last ski injury was there. It was a torn anterior cruciate. I was skiing with Tom. I couldn't keep up with him, so he was riding up on the lift as I was going down. He saw it happen beneath him. I think that's how it happened. I was trying to keep up with him. Bastard! It's so embarrassing to be taken off a mountain in a basket by the Ski Patrol. But thank god for them. I was in agony. It's a very painful injury. You can hear it happen.
Good thing skiing wasn't my favorite sport.
Showing posts with label Ski Patrol. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ski Patrol. Show all posts
Friday, November 18, 2011
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