Vicarious skiing doesn’t have the same thrills

By Penny Stine
Monday, February 22, 2010

After a couple of visits to the physical therapist, I have to come to the realization that I may never be fit enough to get a job as a crossing guard and my tennis-playing days are over. Of course, since my career goals don’t include standing in traffic and I don’t even own a tennis racket, I’m OK with that.

I’m not OK with being unable to ski, which is the sorry state I find myself in this winter due to a fall on the ice in January. I hate being cold, I dislike even thinking about my natural gas bill and I’m not fond of gray skies. The only wonderful thing about winter is skiing, but after damaging my shoulder to the point where tucking in a shirt is painful, I’ve been a bit hesitant about hurtling myself down a mountain full of bumps.

A couple of weeks ago, the doc told me I could probably go ski as long as I didn’t ski aggressively, but what’s the point in that? Skiing is fun for several reasons, and none of them include going slow or enjoying the scenery on the bunny hill.

Unfortunately, the older I get, the more I’ve learned how easy it is to hurt yourself in an entirely new way because you’re overcompensating in an effort to keep yourself from doing further damage to a body part that’s already hurt. I know, it sounds confusing and complicated, but who hasn’t fallen out of the raft because she’s babying her tired, sore arm and is trying to paddle with her toes? Anyone? No, well, consider how easy it is to screw up your back after you start walking funny because you bruised a foot and you’ll understand.

Every week, when Saturday rolls around, I tell myself that I’m happy I’m not spending the day skiing; it’s good to have time to do the laundry, go grocery shopping and wrestle with the bills. Every Saturday, I also tell myself that a leprechaun will leave a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow and I will become president and speak fluent Italian. Obviously, I tell myself a bunch of lies every weekend.

I’ve been overdosing on the Vancouver Winter Olympics every night, getting a great reminder of the terrible snow conditions in the Pacific Northwest and wondering why sequins and figure skating came to be so inextricably paired.

I’ve been hoping that watching the Olympics will somehow compensate for going to Safeway instead of Powderhorn on Saturdays. So far, no such luck, but I have learned several important lessons while watching the Olympics:

1. No matter how fast I go and how cool I feel when popping over the moguls, I will never do moguls like an Olympic skier. Have you noticed how their knees look like twin needles on a sewing machine? Mine are more like two flags whipping in the wind, going every which way, occasionally in unison, but more often not.

2. You must have nerves of steel and a lucky rabbit’s foot to be a competitive short track skater.

3. Ski-jumping and acrophobia do not mix.

4. Snowboard cross is cool. But I’m still going to stick to my two planks.

5. All the drama and excitement of international curling must not translate well on a small screen.

The Olympics are great, but I still want to be out there myself. I’m sure I can make my knees do that sewing machine thing with a little more practice. If not, I can just pretend they’re Olympic flags.