I don't put much stock in the whole 'guardian angel' concept, but if I do have one, she's most likely limping around after a serious slip-and-fall accident on a sleet-laden cloud (she of course, would not have been flying as in the heavenly stereotype since her wings are perpetually askew and her billowing robes always flap into her eyes). Sigh.
Glenn and I went skiing this morning as the day dawned bright and clear with the promise of mild winter temperatures and better slope conditions due to some snowfall earlier in the week. Now mind you, I started "skiing" in December, 2001 at age 47. Those of you who monitor this online journal may have noticed that on Monday, my last official day in the age my husband so gently referred to as "double nickles" I trooped myself to the top of Pebble Creek and skied down all by myself. The mid-morning drive up the hill held such promise. Sigh.
The first hint that things may go somewhat awry were the kids. Even though my walking partner and friend Dixie told me yesterday she'd be busy today with her grandchildren because they have no school today, the opportunity for an "ah-ha" moment didn't materialize. I even told Glenn, but neither of us concluded that mathematical concept "no school in Pocatello = LOTS of kids at Pebble." Arriving at the lower parking lot, I snapped on my K2Luv's and looked downhill toward the Aspen Lift loading area . . . to see a looooonnnnggg line of munchkins waiting for their chairs. A few of these little people zoomed and zithered past me as they sped downhill to find a spot in the queue. Nonetheless, we skied down and got in line for a ride.
After a few moments, we finally made it to the promised land, the head of the line, and prepared to board. Just as the chair ahead of what should have been ours began its swing past us, we both pushed off to move ourselves into position for the next seat. Then, suddenly, the whole chair lift stopped. In an attempt to halt myself and avoid running into the empty and suspended chair, somehow I crossed my skiis and fell over. Even more unfortunately, the way I fell to the ground involved landing with my left leg at something of a near-right angle to my body and my knee twisted. I was in such a spaghetti twist that the poor kid working the chair lift had to take my skis off to right me so I could limp off to the side. And all of this while about 100 elementary school age kids (read: athletic, young, limber and fearless) watched. Sigh. Again.
I'm no stranger to chairlift incidents, and I worked hard to overcome my 'chairlift anxiety'. The first time I ever tried skiing, Glenn and Meghan took me to one of the Boynes back in Michigan. Let's just say that knocking your whole family off the chair, having an inattentive lift operator failing to push the panic button quickly resulting in the next chair bonking your college-age daughter in the back of the head all while being observed by the many people in the lift line. . . well, that maiden endeavor didn't have "Olympic slalom career" written all over it.
I took a few moments to compose myself and think about my leg as well as send Glenn to get back in line. Eventually, I carried my skis under the guide rope, snapped 'em on again and joined my husband in line. This time, I managed to hitch a ride without incident, but one spin down the hill told me "uh-uh" not today. The Aspen run looked as if some celestial hand had waved and converted the snow to honey; kid-ants swarmed the place by the hundreds. The snow was soft and not well groomed. And, I could feel my knee . . . and knew then and there that while I could spend a bit of time cruising amongst the kiddies on the Aspen run, it would be to my advantage not to venture up hill on my leg. So, we came home.
A little respite in the rocker recliner with an ice pack and I'm certain to be fine . . . the limp is hardly noticeable at all. . . and I will return to Pebble, perhaps on Monday. Maybe my guardian angel was watching out for me? A little mishap loading onto the baby lift did more damage to my ego than my body. . . who knows what sleet-laden cloud of my own I dodged at the top of the hill today?
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