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Skiing ... other's passion, my pain
Contributed by: Connie Massa on 1/3/2008

With all the recent snowfall in the mountains it's no wonder why folks are clamoring to get up there and strap on those skis for a day of excitement. There's nothing like the cold, crisp air caressing your face as you're snaking your way down a 10,000-foot mountain.

It's the next best thing to heaven. Unless that is, you can't ski.

I was born and raised in Kettering, Ohio, a small suburb of Dayton. There were plenty of hills where I came from, but none that even remotely resembled a mountain. Amazingly enough, there was a ski hill called Sugar Creek. It was a couple hundred feet in elevation and was virtually covered in ice all winter. That's as good as the skiing got in Kettering, Ohio.

After moving here, we decided to try our hand at real skiing. We drove to Keystone, rented skis and headed for the slopes.

Because I had never been on skis in my entire life, Mark decided that he would give me a few pointers on the bunny hill before whisking me up the mountain on the chair lift.

I've gotta tell you that there is nothing bunny about that hill. After getting to the top, I felt like I was looking down Mount Everest. The only thing missing was the flag I was supposed to plant on the summit. After several minutes of botched instructions, I did what all the little kids were doing. I sat down on my butt and slid to the bottom of the hill. I then proceeded to take a lesson.

The lesson went pretty well. I learned all the essentials a new skier should know. I learned how to get up when I fell. I learned how to walk on skis without sliding. Most importantly, I learned how to control my speed by snowplowing. I excelled at this technique. My confidence growing, I was starting to think I could do this skiing thing.

After several more trips to the ski slopes I was noticing that my technique was not improving. I was still falling a fair amount and struggling to get up. I was still skiing exclusively on green runs. I could only make two runs a day because I was snowplowing down the entire mountain. By the time I got to the bottom, my thighs were burning and wobblier than Jell-O. To say the least, I wasn't making any real progress.

One beautiful, sunny day at Keystone the slopes were packed and I was taking my sweet time snowplowing down my favorite green run. As I got closer to the bottom, my skis crossed and I began to lose my balance. As I struggled to straighten them out, my feet slid away and I found myself in full horizontal splits!

With all my might, I pulled my legs back together. At that very moment, clapping erupted from the chair lift above me. To my embarrassment, everyone had seen my acrobatic feat. I'm not sure if they thought I intentionally did this, but my legs went against all the natural laws of physics.

That was the last time I skied. I came to the conclusion that I had no business on skis or the slopes. Like all athletes, I retired at the top of my game. I am now an armchair skier at the lodge.



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CONTRIBUTOR INFORMATION

Connie Massa

Castle Rock , CO

Connie Massa has posted 27 stories and 3 comments since joining on 10/2/2007. Connie Massa 's average story rating is 4.95.
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