Once upon a time I thought I hadn’t sufficiently given winter sports a sporting chance.  Having grown up in the Chicago, all I knew to do with snow was shovel it.  There weren’t nearby mountains to ski or snowboard on.  And ice skating?  Where?  There weren’t a whole lot of indoor ice rinks in urban suburbia in the 70’s.  Nope, snow was a chore to me.

That brings us to the picture above.  One day, I got the brilliant idea that if I went to one of the prettiest skiing towns, then I couldn’t help but fall in love with winter sports.  Maybe I just needed the right environment and years of maturity to finally appreciate it.

This was taken 10 years ago in Park City, UT.  The town was picture-perfect.  The snow was soft and almost pillow-like.  The ski instructor was patient and knowledgeable.  And…I fell down so many times I lost count.  My face was cold.  My toes were frozen. I didn’t dismount the chair lift properly and landed on my butt so then I was afraid of the chair lift.   And snow remained my mortal enemy.

Lesson learned?  I’ll stick to shoveling.  Well, and maybe some snow angels.



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