Words always heard together

Today’s entry: “sickening” and “pop.” At least in reference to the sound a knee makes when a 45-year-old dad decides to hit a jump that’s cut a little deep, sends him too high, and which he has no hope of landing. Heard the pop, oh yes I did. It’s not bad, actually, and I was able to continue skiing, but not having fun — no more bumps after that. Thankfully, we were on our way down to Mount Snow’s smallest terrain park, Grommet, where Hannah would wrest away the Worst (or Best) Fall of the Day title from me. She took the little mailbox just fine, and then took the first jump just fine. Then she got huge air off the second jump, and I knew she couldn’t stick the landing. She disappeared below the jump and I was laughing until I then saw her go up over the next jump while sitting down on her skis — and she got great air again. But amazingly, and this is the difference between being 12 and being 45, she then just stood up and came to a perfect stop. Like she was doing it on purpose, as Sal Masakela used to say before he was dispatched to the billiards circuit. I got down to her, feeling guilty for laughing, but it was clear she was just fine and I was laughing again, and exhorted, as if I were some sort of white, male, skiing version of Star Jones, “You did not just stand up from that landing!”

Skiing is a phenomenally expensive sport, start to finish. Clothing, equipment, tickets, food — but it is so worth it, not only because it cures the cabin fever that can set in over our somewhat long winters, but because we just have such a great time as a family out there. It’s always good. It’s always fun, and we’re always doing it together.