I recently received a phone call saying someone had made arrangements for me to receive a Med-Alert device at no cost. The caller wanted to coordinate schedules in order to make the delivery. My first thought was that it was a ploy to get a device in my hands and that I subsequently would have a monthly activation charge. Whether it was an act of generosity, a new gimmick to increase sales or false representation, my answer was the same, “Thanks, but no thanks.”
Is it possible to go snow skiing and not fall down? I have been on skis fewer than a dozen times in the past six years and I’d answer the question by saying “No”. I can truthfully say, I no longer fall as often as I once did, but I have yet to spend a day on the slopes and not fall at least once. Today was no exception. Actually, I refer to it as a perfect day on the slopes if I only fall one time.
Speed and gravity can collectively outwit even the most skilled at times. Consequently, I don’t beat myself up for falling. I don’t even get consideration for honorable mention in the marginally skilled category. After six years, skilled folks who’ve seen me ski would at least say I am now in the intermediate category. You have no idea how good that makes me feel. Those same folks who observed my early efforts described me as a kamikaze on skis. They were generally concerned that I’d kill myself or someone else.
The possibility existed that it could be both.
I know that some of you think you have me figured out. You’d say I don’t have a lick of sense. That may be true. I once fell and hit my head pretty hard. I actually was grateful that I was wearing a helmet. I hit hard enough that it almost knocked some sense into me. When I finally got back on my skis and stopped saying, “Ouch, Ouch, Ouch”, it was my intent to ski back to the bottom, turn in my skis and call it quits. My frame of reference wasn’t just for the day. I was going to call it quits forever. After all, isn’t the definition of insanity someone at my age wanting to learn to ski?
On another occasion, I fell and pulled my Achilles heel. That, too, was no laughing matter. I actually wasn’t sure I was going to be able to walk the following day. I did seek medical attention when I returned home. I wore a therapeutic boot for the next six weeks to two months. I’m sure if anyone inquired, I responded that it was a football injury. Why not keep people wondering?
Did I mention that I’ve finally figured out how to adjust my speed? For the first four of five years of skiing, ski instructors kept telling me that I needed to slow down. It wasn’t that I disagreed with them. I couldn’t figure out why I was passing up so many people on the slopes. After all, isn’t it true that gravity is no respecter of persons?
A couple of weeks ago, I had a really strange dream. I had signed up to participate in something similar to a marathon. Instead of running, the competition for best time would be on skis. In my dream, start time for the participants was staggered. It was almost my start time when it occurred to me that everyone participating in the event would be skiing straight downhill at record breaking speeds. In my dream I had a flashback to seeing the Winter Olympics on television. The other participants would not be making frequent turns (secret to slowing down) and my presence on the slopes would constitute imminent peril. It was a disaster in the making. Also, in my dream I discovered I had no ski socks, but I was going to ski anyway because I was on the roster. Thankfully, I awakened before I started downhill.
Did I mention, yesterday was a perfect day for me on the slopes? I don’t have the words to describe the level of satisfaction I garner from skiing. I figure the cost associated to a day of skiing is probably in the neighborhood of the cost associated to a day of golf. Consequently, why would anyone opt for golf? That, my friend, is the definition of insanity.
All My Best!
Don