taking on the green run

Tomorrow concludes the 2010 winter Olympics.

We're all feeling a little sad because these past two weeks have been so much fun at our house.

Every day, we've tuned in to whatever is on and have gazed in amazement at the incredible athleticism of people from around the world who have devoted their lives to their sport. We've watched figure skating and speed skating, bobsleigh, luge, skeleton, hockey and Nordic combined. Taking only small breaks to bawl at the P&G commercials...

We've also watched the Super G, Grand Slalom, moguls, freestyle aerial and snowboarding.

We've even watched curling.

But nothing has held our children's rapt attention like downhill.

I've probably mentioned it before, but have no recollection, that once upon a time, Charlie and I both loved to ski. The first year that we were dating, we went skiing at Lake Tahoe in northern California. My future-husband asked if I was a competent skier, and me being the humble delicate flower that I am, bragged confessed that I had never once fallen on the skis I was using - which were a gift I had received several years prior.



I felt "fairly" confident on whatever slope the mountain had to offer.

So our first run was a black diamond.



And on that very first run, I caught an edge and did a triple salchow flip di doo down the mountain. When I finally came to a stop, I was on my stomach, my free skis were bouncing over moguls far, far away from me ... and my body was contorted in such a way that my right leg was over my left shoulder.



A week later, when I met my future in-laws for the first time, I was walking with the assistance of crutches and wearing a full length leg brace.

The last time Charlie and I went skiing was in February of 2001. At Whistler, nonetheless. And we had a wonderful time until the last run on the last day, when I once again did a triple salchow flip di doo and slid down the Blackcomb glacier on my face. Lucky for me, the exchange rate was in our favor and beer was cheap.

This week when Charlie was cleaning out the garage and found his old gear, William wasted no time suiting up. Our little dude is so pumped to go. He stood practicing on our front lawn for the better part of an hour, while our neighbors drove by and honked their horns.



Our children can't wait to learn how to ski. And so long as I've got a sufficient supply of painkillers with me, I can't wait to teach them. Although on second thought...



Maybe I'll just spare my body the punishment and sign them up for lessons. Sitting in the lodge next to a roaring fire with a hot toddy and my knitting certainly has a nice ring to it.

Ah yes, spoken like one who is gracefully surrendering the things of youth. While fully cognizant that recoveries take a lot longer, the more frail you become.