As embarrassing as this is for me, I am compelled by astronomical appreciation and admiration of my dear cousin Tom for rescuing me from a mountainside mid-run (thanking whatever powers that be for his strength and skill). To Tom and my aunt Teri for their patience with my pathetic skiing abilities at 12,000 ft.; and to my son Carson and uncle Gordon for not teasing me mercilessly after hearing our tale..... Im a switchback skier, not being comfortable with speed or slopes greater than about 45 degrees. In my defense, this is my first time back to skiing since before I married and had kids, and I have a sophomore in college. Add to that, Im a skier in her 40s who gave up exercise for a new years resolution and stayed resolute well into fall; a skier who hails from the flatlands of Minnesota, and its reasonable to expect that in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado where the air is thin and the trails run long, bunny slopes are my new best friends. Catching an edge and unwittingly circling around to backward instills in me a panic far greater than is warranted, but it does, and try as I might to avoid the predicament, it keeps happening. Now imagine a place where even the green runs threaten black diamond offshoots at a sideways glance. Im mortified. When did I become so weak? Two days earlier at Vail, I managed one long run from summit to base in the course of an afternoon. There, I pushed myself on, with a mountain mantra of three turns, then rest, three turns then rest, past signs claiming easiest path. The gondola shack appearing, finally, and though so close, I stopped to take the call buzzing in my coat lining to say Im just around the corner. Shakily, wearily, triumphantly, I bombed the terminus, leaning forward to grasp the nearest ski rack as I felt my knees suddenly speak their disapproval. My soleus would concur momentarily and cause me a days rest. I cant claim an interminably long run or a rock-and-tree-obstacled sideline as my undoing at Keystone. It was simply a well-packed blue run, with a surprisingly steep midsection looming, that sent my oxygen-depleted body and my new-boot-numb-and-aching legs into paralyzing fear. My top ski wouldnt follow as I turned, no matter which was on top. I skiied off-course, unable to begin, execute, or complete any turn, lost of all leg control. Enter Tom: 13 years my junior, a kind, burly Colorado man, raised in Denver, educated in Boulder, with a lifetime of mountain sports and a distaste for weekend groomers, yet there with us on a bustling holiday weekend because he truly values his family... and we love him so. He was there the whole time, of course: coaxing, coaching, patiently waiting as I haltingly side-slided and eventually attempted yet another unsuccessful turn on that steep slope. I began to think I might take off my skis and bottom-slide the hill, maybe feign injury to get ski patrol to take me seriously. But instead, he skis up to me and says, hop on, Ill carry you down. Youre kidding, right? Nope, Im serious, hop on, and he bends down. Have you ever done anything like this before? Sure! No you havent. Yeah, in the Rangers. (Hes not a Ranger.) Well, Im desperate enough, and hes skilled enough that I actually attempt to jump and clamber up his broad back. Of course were in ski gear, so Im slip-sliding right back off until he bends even lower and hikes me up while I basically just try to stay balanced and pull my arms up and over his shoulders. Ive still got my skis on and he hands me my poles. Were a two-headed mutant snow-octopus as he heroically starts down that steep slope. Then, mid-way, he hits an icy patch and we lose balance. I tumble off, but he keeps both of us from further descent. He helps me up and suggests we tandem-ski since were almost to the catwalk anyway. Behind me, he puts his arms around my waist and says, Were going to go fast. If you feel anything catch, just lift your skis, and we are flying down the run. We passed one lift and quite a few boarders on our way down to the gondola that would get us home. I suspect those watching our approach thought he was a father helping his kid finish a tough run. Hes going to be an amazing dad. Every few feet, I felt a greater sense of relief and normalcy returning. I felt safe, even at speeds faster than I ever imagine going on my own. He gave me the gift of security and exhilaration in one fell swoop. The gratitude swells within me unabated even now, in the safety of my Minnesota home. As a boy, he had a crush on me: a crush dear enough to cause him minor heartbreak at my wedding, sweet thing. Now the tables have turned and Im crushing hard for this amazing cousin of mine. Hes single, ladies. But be worthy of a true adventurer and a heart of gold.
Posted on: Wed, 21 Jan 2015 02:03:06 +0000
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