Something I forgot to add to my last post. I recognized my problem and then in an effort to acknowledge and honor this issue, I purposely did not go back out for a ski...
I went Ice Skating, with my friends nephew, on a frozen lake--how cool is that. We don't get that in Manhattan. The ice was rough and raised in places, but I managed to stay on my feet. The ice showed cracks and slush in some places; I was terrified that my 175-180 pound body slamming onto the surface would break through. Heath(er) Bar Crunch Ice Cream might be a bit salty.
So no tricks.
At 330pn I waited with a cup of coffee by the gondola to welcome my friend after his ski. Everyone was taking pleasure in the final run of the day. I watched as they indulged in winter's rapture, their skis carving out thin slices of snow. I told myself, it was okay. The hill will be here when I return. I can always return... whenever I want to...
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