In the beginning…. there were those who could ski… & and then some not meant for that sport.
Many, many, manyyyy years ago we went on our first ski trip with our neighbors Mary Jo and Randy (Overland Park, KS) to Steamboat Springs, CO. Of course the kids did well first trip out and by end of trip, the Isler’s were taking them on blue (maybe even black) slopes. Me, on the other hand, had my leg wrapped around a tree the first day and being stubborn like I was (am), refused help down the mountain by the ski patrol — now that would have been a little too embarrassing. And to make matters worse, I couldn’t ruin my first day, so the rest of the day I spend on the bunny slope being pulled up by a rope and making my way down the tiny little hill.
Needless to say, by the end of the trip I couldn’t put my leg on the ground because a piece of the cartilage was caught between the joint. So, did I ever ski again? Once? And after that I stuck to snow mobiles and shopping and now with two fairly new knees I would never attempt those slopes again.