(sorry, that last one was getting too long).
So Tuesday dawned bright and sunny. Temperatures were a very mild 40-50 degrees. We got the boys checked in a geared up for their ski school. They each waved goodbye with nary a backward glance. V and I looked at each other and tried not to be too excited about spending the day kid less. We went over to get my rental equipment then headed to the chair lift. I was terrified. We went slow and I'm proud to report that I did it. I got on without incident. But truthfully, I was more concerned with getting off the lift. Ever since that time at Alpine Valley that I heard about some woman (was it mom? I'm not sure) that fell right at the top of the lift, I have always imagined that I would do the same. The ride up the mountain was breathtaking and I only sort of held on for dear life. At the top, I pushed off perfectly and glided to a textbook stop. I actually raised my hands in a show of pride. I was tickled with myself.
So there we were, at the top of a green run. Lined up and ready to go. V was guiding me, telling me to go side to side, that's how you control speed. Go across the mountain, not down. I took a few deep breaths and shoved off.
OK, I just have to pause for a second....can anyone tell where this is going? Would I really be going into so much detail if it was as simple as pushing off, gliding side to side and eventually reaching the bottom unscathed? Let's get back to our story...
So we shoved off. I used a snow plow (pizza wedge) to control my speed and we went maybe 20 yards then stopped. We pushed off again and I started having a hard time controlling my speed. I remembered the ABC's that V taught me: Always Be in Control. If you are out of control, fall. OK, so I started to panic a little, so I fell. Hard. It shook me up. I felt my knee twist a little and I bumped my head a little. My skis had popped off as they are supposed to, so V brought them back to me and helped me up. We took a little rest, my knee was sore. But we were still pretty much at the top of the mountain and there was only one way down. So I got my skis back on and we pushed off again, even gentler than before.
Let's agree that the brain is a powerful force and my brain in particular is well versed in psyching myself out in a multitude of situations. This was no different. I started speeding up and I completely panicked and threw myself to the ground. Again. This time, however, my left ski did not pop off. I ended up sprawled face first with a vague sensation that my knee was f'd up. V helped me get the ski off and sit up. My knee wouldn't cooperate. So I caved. I admitted defeat. The blankety blank mountain beat me. And frankly, I'm ok with that. We called ski patrol and asked for help getting down. They sent a tobaggon driven by Rocky. Yea, really, his name was Rocky. Very nice guy, that Rocky. He prodded my knee a little, put a splint on it and loaded me up. He asked me my name and age (I responded honestly and told him my name was Kristin and my age was "entirely too old to be hurtling myself down a hill with sticks tied to my feet").
I rode laying down, head first, down the rest of the mountain while V skied behind us. You know how pretty snow covered mountains look from afar. Well, up close, they are actually covered with a billion tiny rocks and chunks of ice. And when you are riding in a tobaggon head first with a hurt knee, you feel every single one of the bumps. At the bottom, I tried to put some weight on my left leg and ended up refusing medical treatment. I thought I was over reacting a little and figured some rest and ibuprofen was all I needed. So V returned my equipment (full refund, thank you. Turns out when your ski doesn't pop off, they take some of the blame) and he returned our lift tickets (full refund again, thank you) and we went to a restaurant to eat, put ice on my knee and relax.
When the time came, we went over to get the kids (V walked, I hobbled) from their lessons. As predicted, they had a fabulous time. Despite the amount of time they had been out, neither was ready to come in. It will come as no surprise to learn that both kids fell fast asleep the minute we got into the car.
I kept ice on my knee and popped ibuprofen for the next 12 hours. Wednesday dawned and I was in pain. We decided to forgo our plans to ski Vail (Wednesday was opening day, but no way was I going out again) and we returned to Denver so I could go to the doctor.
Long story short (I know, too late).....I most likely have torn my ACL. I know have a knee brace, crutches, some powerful ibuprofen and percocet and I feel much, MUCH better. Crutches are a pain, but it's so much easier than hobbling on my own. The ER doctor asked me if I got hurt skiing and I told him that no, the skiing part was easy. It was the falling part that hurt me.
God I crack myself up.
Happy Thanksgiving. We have much to be thankful for.