Between the rock and the hard place

Only a few days ago, I temporarily ran out of luck and, to my total surprise, went off-piste against my will. The path was tight (Edgard's Alley for those readers who know my playground,) filled with skiers and to passing them, had no other alternative but squeezing to the extreme right which happened to hang over a steep forested slope.

Over that particular area, the snow was soft and gave way under my skis, throwing me into a rocky ravine where I fell and was brutally stopped by a twin pine tree which dry branches almost poked my eye, scratched my goggle lens, scrapped my left wrist and my right armpit and since my left thigh was already jammed against a big rock, got pined down when my right leg ended up wedged against that massive pine tree.

My right thigh muscle got crushed, the femur painfully bruised and it took me quite a bit of time before I could recover my spirits, fight a bad nausea, get back on my feet and very, very slowly, climb out of my predicament. Once more I was very lucky. I could hardly walk, even less ski, but was whole and alive.

After that incident, I realized that piloting an aging body, just like an old clunker, might require more kindness, less speed and a much more relaxed attitude. The big competition is now over, so it might be time to take is easy and care much more for that aging frame of mine. I think I'll be wise enough to follow that precept and ski well into my sunset that should only happen many, many years from now!