At this moment, my body has as many new scars as a trail map loaded with expert runs.
For the first time in 45 years, discounting two pregnancies, I will not be up on skis of any kind. I had a feeling that this day would come and it is here.
An unfortunate lift of a too-heavy piece of furniture in early September sent me for back surgery in mid-December. Now, there are physical restrictions, like no skiing this year, at least.
There may be older skiers who would defy doctor’s orders, but I am not one of them. The raw memory of searing pain, lost time and pre-surgery agony that was coming from my back is enough to make downhill abstinence almost a relief right now.