And So It Goes...
The sky is blue. It is not just blue, but it is rich and dark, and it
has occasional streaks of white that I can only fathom are caused by the high mountain
peaks scraping against the heavens. It is very peaceful. The warm sun glows against my face
and the wind, what there is of it, politely excuses itself and tip-toes
around me so as I won't even notice. A remarkable calmness has overtaken me as I
gaze into a million miles of cosmos.
I am starting to get cold though. Not a normal kind of cold, either,
but a wet, transient cold; the kind that starts in your back and legs and works itself
forward towards your chest. It is the type of cold that you would expect if,
for instance, you are laying down in the snow while staring up at the sky.
Luckily, that is exactly what I am doing, so the cold, which is cold,
at least isn't startling. Leaning my head forward to peer over my twisted body,
I see Jason about thrity meters
down the mountain. Although he apparently enjoyed the same fate as I, he is now making significant
progress to once again become upright and mobile. As I bring my vision in closer, I
concentrate my efforts on undoing this jigsaw puzzle that was once
my legs and skis. With some excruciating contortions, I soon find myself balancing on one
ski, and with a sharp kick and a reassuring 'click', I am back on my gear.
The wind, which was so polite before, now rudely tugs at my coat as I start to pick up speed.
The calmness is now gone, the peacefulness is now gone. Adrenaline reenters my blood as competitive
rivalry moves into consciousness. "Thirty meters and closing," I think to myself as the gap
between me and Jason shortens. Shifting weight to and fro, turning left and right, I am gaining.
As speed builds higher, the wind nips the tips of my ears, and my once cold back now begins to sweat.
Left turn; right turn; left turn; "twenty meters"; left turn; right turn. The unique sound of
crunching snow, which had been muted by the rushing wind and the throbbing of a fevered heart, suddenly
becomes unnaturally pronounced. After a brief moment, I am calm again as I once more gaze into that
beautiful blue sky... with Jason thirty meters down the mountain doing the same.
On March 3, 2003, I had the pleasure of snow skiing for the first time. It
was Jason's first time to ski as well. The brotherly rivalry, the complete lack of skill, and
the exceptionally pleasant day combined to make this a truly spectacular experience. Though this
story contains some pieces fiction, it does try to capture the spirit of the day, and hopefully some of the humor as well.
Just consider yourself lucky that I didn't write about our first ride on the ski lift where we
unsuccessfully attemped to use each other as leverage to get out of the chair...
Special thanks to our wonderful ski instructor Kim from Eldora Ski Resort.
Mark Thomas
(from left to right, Me, Jason Brown, and Jason's wife Sarah.)
