The old man and skiing

These days, when I ski, I sometimes think about Hemingways’ book “The old man and the sea”, and I try to imagine a parallel between me, my skis and the aging fisherman and his boat.

I also think of exploits I might want to do on my skis, but that’s were the comparison runs short.

There are no formidable marlin or famished sharks roaming the slopes to keep me busy and worried. There is just a snow that changes its appearance and its mood, day after day.

What is true though, is that my vanishing muscular strength is complemented by more than six decades of experience that get me where I want to go and in the style I can live with.

So, to the untrained observer eye, I seem to accomplish a lot with very little means. This, I think, is the essence of growing old.