The Last Run

gravity, bad boyfriend and the sled of shame

You know how bad things happen in slow motion? Time and space are already pretty iffy in my opinion, but when something terrible is in process there is a common experience where

Everything.
Slows.
Down.

P O P!   The  sound reverberated in my mind as a part of me broke. I fell in extra slow motion -  96 frames per second?

Me and my ski were unable to agree on a single plan or direction.

The snow fell in slow motion; drifting toward me with curious tenderness. My breath was calm despite bad things, and the swish of fancy skiers going by was surprisingly just interesting. I scooted to the side and posted up on the steep ass hill with a leg that didn’t stand for standing.

Then I enjoyed the beautiful calm that comes with shock.

⛷️❄️⛷️❄️⛷️

33 years ago I was on my 3rd ever EVER day of skiing. 
Like. 
Ever. 
I grew up in Houston and Florida in a non-skiing family.

I was 22 and I felt ready to be on a mountain for the first time. In preparation I spent a bunch of time on rollerblades blasting down the ramps of San Diego parking garages with exhaust-smell-wind whipping through my hair. 

I was an adventure girl in my 20’s, I’d just moved across the country by myself and I had taken up rock climbing with a handsome climber and his posse of climber friends. They of course didn’t restrict their fun to rocks in the summer, it was wintertime so it was time to engage in snow adventures. Off to Colorado we went.

Day One. 
My fit lil 22 year old legs did great. Down the bunny hill? Spanked it. Let’s try a green run - sure! And, down the other greens - no problem. Eyes sparkling we went to dinner and found the beer and made plans for the next day. Time for the next level.

Day Two. 
Blue runs! Lots of them. Long hair flying behind me in fresh air (helmets weren’t a thing then.) The next day was our birthday; see the boyfriend and I shared the same day of birth, even though he was a few years older than me, it was a pretty neat fact. We celebrated again, different cocktails - same delighted warm feeling of accomplishment.

Day Three. 
I woke up tired. But  - as a gal always having to try to keep up with the boys - I didn’t want to say. We took the lifts that took us higher, higher, whoa - tippy top of the mountain -  my heart started to pound. These runs weren’t anything like the pretty blues of yesterday. Gosh, what are those bumps?

❄️

After dismounting the quickly spinning lift, the sign announced we were entering onto a black diamond run. Without saying much, the birthday boyfriend flew down the steep hill while I stared down at his retreating figure.

Hmm. I don’t think I’m ready for this, whatever this is.

I wondered if I should lose the planks attached to my feet and hike back up for help. That felt right to me in a deep way; but my ego wasn't having it.

Just traverse the mountain on these skis - line by line under these weird snow bumps - just go slow! It will be ok.

For anyone who ski’s, you know - slow isn’t a good plan. And so, snap, crackle, pop went my left knew when my ski caught and flipped me.

Eventually the sled of shame arrived, along with a couple of handsome guys. 

Even though I knew no one in Copper Mountain Colorado,  I recognized one of the ski patrol guys who peered down at me.  He and I had climbed together the summer before, and seeing his familiar beauty, light brown eyes and shock of red hair made me feel even calmer than my already surprisingly calm state.

It was quite a distance to the bottom and the ride was kinda sweet. Majestic pine-tree tops and sharp peaks flew by, along with the occasional rubbernecker face who peeked in to see who was on their way to the mountain hospital and the end of a nice vacation.

More bad things happened that winter and spring, but the ACL replacement surgery went well due to the good insurance I had from my job at TGI Fridays. My knee surgeon was the same guy who fixed the San Diego Chargers! It was a slam dunk (or so he said).

By the next winter I wasn’t thinking about it too much when my college roommate and I headed up to Tahoe to see her parents. When the first snowcapped mountain appeared before her speeding brown Subaru, my whole body shook.

And shook.

I didn’t understand what was happening so I reached for the Jagermeister that we had posted up in the front seat for the ride. It helped (obvs), but it would be years before I understood that my strong aversion to snow was a direct result of that black run-fail.

⛷️⛷️⛷️

Moving to Park City, Utah in the fall of 2025 meant that snow was going to be a big feature of life. And skiers too - they are freakin’ everywhere. My husband is a really, really good skier (not something I ever really valued, just something I heard from cousins and other people) - and the kid loves it too, so they got season passes.

I didn’t.
Why would I?
My skiing career had ended in a flurry of fail all those years ago and I was good with that.

But then my dear friend from the Bay Area wanted to come and ski. I was like.
Huh. Maybe?

And when my kid really pushed me to ski I was like.
Huh. Maybe?

But 33 years later my left knee is still a little dumb and I weigh more
along with other 55 year old complaints.

But.
Maybe?

❄️

Part Two can be found linked HERE. ✨ Angel's make their snowy appearance! 

Photo by Joshua Woroniecki on Unsplash

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