Downhill Racer

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I’ve been watching some of the ski competitions taking place in this year’s Olympic Games. The skill level, dexterity, and speed being displayed has been enjoyable to see.  Personally, I’ve never been much of a skier. Tried my hand at it once. But, as with so many things, my personality shaped my experience.

The problem is that I’ve never had much patience to learn something before I jump in and try it. So, during my first and last ski outing, I simply strapped on the skis and after an uneventful trip down a rather unremarkable bunny slope, I was ready (I thought) for the ski lift. Lessons were offered and quickly dismissed as unimportant and unneeded. I had always prided myself on my natural athletic abilities.

My first run down the intermediate slope was, to put it kindly, ungainly. But I managed to make it to the bottom in one piece without causing harm to myself or others. And with every subsequent trip I became more and more confident that I had mastered the sport well enough to hold my own. Unfortunately that’s when my friend, an accomplished skier, asked me if I minded if he went up to ski the “blacks.”

“The heck with that,” I countered, “I’m coming with you.” He did his best to dissuade me but I can be obstinate. As we passed the drop off for the intermediate slope and headed up, up, up to the advanced level, I quickly understood why this might not have been such a good idea. The smooth, wide, expanse of the intermediate slopes disappeared and in its stead was a boiling river of snow with mounds and hills and no real clear path to the bottom.

I fell the minute I left the ski lift. Picked myself up, said a prayer and tried to follow my friend down the mountain. I fell again after two feet. Picked myself up, advanced another foot and fell. I then took off my skis and and started walking. I still managed to fall three more times.

I happily returned to the intermediate slope where I promptly hit a patch of ice and went down hard, breaking my collarbone. But, on the upside, I got to ride in one of those stretchers on skis down to the clinic which is an experience not everyone gets to have.

Michael Ondrasik and Home Video Studio of Mount Dora specialize in the preservation of memories. For more information, call 352-735-8550 or visit www.homevideostudio.com/mtd

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