Falling.

I like to think of myself as a talented skier. I mean, considering that I live where 10 ski resorts are, I might just be mediocre. Maybe. I'll I am saying, is that I should get out on the slopes more. Or, just get out in general.



So here I am in my red and yellow coat ready to go skiing. Understandably, I was a nieve child and I didn't understand what skiing entailed. Apparently, if you're going to go skiing you have to know how to ski well. I thought I did, until I find myself missing not one, but two of my skis. I guess that would make skiing more than difficult.

You see, because my friend Matthew invited me to go skiing with him at Deer Valley. So we're on this blue run that has moguls like a mogul monster. Moguls and I are less than friends, in fact, we're enemies. Moguls wish death upon me, probably because I use them as speed bumps and jumps rather than the original boring unimportant use.

And what do I decide to do? Go on the moguls. Was it a bad choice? No. Was it a life-threatening choice. Absolutely. So here I am rethinking all my life choices. While rethinking my life (that I'm almost 90% sure is going to end) I fall.


Not once,

not twice,

but three painful times.

On the third time, my ski is half way down the run...and people are staring at me. Which wouldn't be bad if my ski wasn't missing. Both of them. So I guess I'm a snowboarder, without a snowboard. Or a skier without skis. Or just a winter hiker, in a ski resort, with two missing skis. Problems? No. Challenges. Yes.

Go skiing they said, it will be fun, they said.
Thanks Matthew.



-For Your Consideration.