It was cold. It wasn’t the type of cold where you could just throw on a jacket an be comfortable. This was the type of cold where you had to wear long underwear, thick, wooly socks, a warm sweater, and a sturdy jacket shell in order to keep the frigid wind and snow from turning your skin to cracked paper and your bones to brittle icicles. This was mountain weather.
The sun bathed the icy slopes of the mountain in a soft light, relfecting gently off the snow. I stepped into my skiis and prepared to start the day. My family had stuck me in Ski School, the boon of any young skiier. All the kids were disgruntled to be there; each preferred to either take a private lesson or do their own thing on the slopes.
We set off, the kids following the instructor like little ducklings following a mother duck. Even though I was in Ski School, I still loved being on the mountain, snow spewing out from behind my skiis, my poles crunching into the snow, propelling me forward faster and faster.
Zooming down the slopes, there was one girl in my group who continued to tick me off. We would be following the instructor, when all of a sudden she would cut me off. After about twenty minutes of her swerving in front of me, I had finally had enough. Sinking lower over my skiis and pushing hard, I quickly gained speed and caught up to the girl. As I neared her, I angled my skiis and proceeded to run over her skiis. She went tumbling as I tripped her and fell face-first into the snow. At the time I laughed until my sides hurt, but now I realize that what I did was dumb. And of course karma came right around and hit me back.
A few days later, my group went down a run with moghuls. The other kids had already been on moghul runs before; I never had. As I inched closer to the precipice, I peered over the edge and felt my stomach sink as I stared at the daunting slope before me. At the time, I had no clue how to ski over the enormous snow bumps, so I just winged it. I tried to go down slowly, working my way carefully down the run. I fell twice in two minutes; snow got into my jacket, my gloves, and my pants. Eventually, I made it to the bottom, completely covered in snow and very embarassed.
As if that wasn’t bad enough, I had more coming. Next we went through a thin path through the trees; the ground was covered in slick ice and roots stuck up everywhere. Of course, the combination of these two factors made me fall. Again.
Oops.
I was in trouble. I slid and fell on my side. My left ski was caught in a twisted, gnarled root. My right ski had popped off and was lying about five feet above me. I was scrambling to get a handhold so I wouldn’t fall into the tree-filled gully below me. It took me about ten minutes and a plethora of expletives to extricate myself from my predicament. The rest of my group were all waiting for me when I finally came out of the woods, completely miserable, cold, and hungry.