Skiing!!! Part 3

I celebrated the one year anniversary of my knee surgery by skiing yesterday.

Meh.

I am now at the point where I have returned to being a mediocre beginner. In fairness, I am better than a beginner, but I feel like one as I am barely getting off the green runs.

Yesterday, we drove to Snoqualmie. Overnight, it snowed six inches, and it was still snowing when we drove to the mountain. The Washington Department of Transportation issued a "chains required except on all-wheel drive" announcement for traveling over the pass. Traffic was slow and treacherous. Claire Adele had just gotten back from an out of town trip, and she skipped skiing to sleep in. I feared we were going to die in a collision and Claire Adele would be an orphan. I thought about texting my friend Carla with Claire Adele's contact information in case we were killed. We survived, but I was rattled when we arrived.

I started on Little Thunder. The six to eight inches of new snow had not been groomed. Instead of corduroy, this run was reasonably packed down powder. The other runs were chopped up powder. I remember my surgeon telling me to do cruisers, whatever is easiest for me. I had Jack telling me these conditions were fine, and I've skied in worse conditions. "It is better than skiing on ice," he said. True, but this was hard. I vacillated between thinking "I am perfectly capable of doing this" and "I shouldn't be doing this." It sucked.

When I got in my quagmire, I thought about how much weight I lifted on the leg press (140 pounds on top of my own weight) at the YMCA Friday. "My legs are strong" became my new mantra as I went down the mountain.

I was feeling good, and Jack suggested we try a blue run. I was feeling confident on Little Thunder and thought why not. On Pacific Crest, I slogged through the moguls that came from the ungroomed powder. "Avoid bumps," I heard my surgeon say. It wasn't like I was seeking out the moguls--they were just there. I was fine, but it took a ton of concentration.

After lunch, I did a few runs on Little Thunder. The snow was perfect, but it was getting boring. I wanted to try something harder, so we went to a different green run. Jack and I crossed half of the mountain through ungroomed powder. I can imagine the unpleasant expression on Evan's face if he were to see me plowing through the field in snow over my boots.

We made it to the other green run. The snow was choppy, and there were more advanced beginners here. I was at the top of the run when a twelve-year-old boy barreling straight down the hill in a wide parallel stance clipped the back of my skis, and I fell. Thankfully, it was not a grand crash--just a little tip over after losing my balance. While I was extremely grateful I wasn't injured, I couldn't figure out how to stand back up while wearing the brace. Jack was already at the bottom of the hill, otherwise, I wold have asked for a hand up. I took my skis off, and in the powder, I couldn't get them back on. Finally, I asked two adults to help me. After ten minutes, I made it to the bottom. I was a little rattled, but I was okay.

The hard part now is pacing myself. Normally, I don't mind challenging myself. I had to challenge myself with physical therapy. Now, I am supposed to take it easy. How easy is too easy versus easy enough?