I ski pretty well for a girl.
I have gotten to the point that I know I can make it to the bottom of any hill. It just might not be pretty.
We started skiing regularly enough about 4 years ago that I bought my own skis. off the internet. on a discount.
I love my skis except for one thing…
On flat surfaces or small declines they are slow.
Small children and the elderly whiz by me.
To make matters worse blog-Stedman is always racing me.
Sometimes I don’t even know I am participating in a race. He “gives” me a head start and then flies by me near the bottom of the hill. I am then subjected to a trash-talking chairlift ride about his possession of ski skills of the mad variety.
And that is how I get involved in a voluntary race.
I just can stand losing…even in a race of which I was unaware.
So I challenge him.
*just stop me now*
And a re-match occurs.
I sped to the top of a hill and came to a swooshing stop to allow the hill to clear a bit before I zipped down the hill with speed yet unseen…
Except I accidentally planted my pole on the down side of my skis.
before I stopped…
which caused a pole vault situation…
in which I flew OVER the pole…
in slow motion…
landing in a face plant slide that lasted 25 feet.
25 feet of shame.
What I didn’t realize is that my fleece hat was covered on one side with a mini snow bank which is like a broadcast to everyone, “Hey look! I fell!”
So when I slid onto the chairlift at the bottom, the guy running the ski lift said, “nice fall.”
Later in the day I was able to redeem my ego by beating blog-Stedman in a race. He says it was a tie, but I am pretty sure a photo finish would have proved my win.