I write this with a deeply-bruised backside and a left bicep that won't fully extend and screams whenever it tries to carry weight.
Oh, and a big smile.
That smile isn't just because the Powder Report snagged a crunchy bronze at last weekend's New England Newspaper and Press Association awards banquet in the sports column category. It's because I finally sucked it up and hit the terrain park again. I finally tried out those snowshoes that were a wedding gift last April. I wore snowpants for each of the first four days of February school vacation. The NENPA recognition didn't hurt, either.
Now, with full realization that ski stories can carry the same weight as an over-embellished fishing story, here's the tale of my worst wipeout.
I was at Berkshire East two seasons ago, snagging some weekday pow before scooting up to Greenfield to cover a Miss Hall's girls basketball game. I've normally been more of an all-mountain snowboarder, and in general prefer bombing some groomers over the terrain park scene. But, as my great aunt Mary always told a young and unable-to-keep-a-girlfriend Mike Walsh: Variety is the spice of life. So I was tackling some rails and jumps that day, and eventually gathered up the guts to try some spins.
On an attempted backside 360 Indy grab, I didn't even come close to a full rotation. The result was a full-on, face-plant wipeout. When I managed to fight back my breath and sit up on my knees, I assumed I was concussed, because I couldn't see anything. It was all blurry. So I removed my helmet, (always wear a helmet, don't be a selfish jerk) and pulled off my goggles. That's when I realized the reason I couldn't see was because I slammed my face into the snow so hard, my contact lenses popped right out of my eyes and were stuck to the inside of my goggles. The damage was altogether not that bad; cracked ribs and a limited ability to laugh heartily or sleep on my stomach for six weeks. I stayed off my board for a while, but the true lasting damage was mental. A season later I promised my fianc I wouldn't do anything risky on the mountain, for fear of showing up at the the end of the aisle on April 21, and in wedding photos for eternity, in a cast or worse. As I turned 30 earlier this month and things like health insurance and home-ownership are more readily on the front burner of life, fear kept me out of the park and doing the same old safe carving.
But for this week's column I wanted to try and combat that fear by trying some new things, or old things again.
This column can be read in its entirety on The Berkshire Eagle website, or reach out to me directly for a copy.