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.