BY JANEL BLADOW
August 2009. I thought I would never ski again.
I ripped my right knee while hopping rocks, boulders really, climbing Longs Peak in the Rocky Mountains, as a 19-year old college student.
I had my meniscus removed less than a year later and arthroscopic surgery nearly 20 years ago. I’d been limping around in denial ever since.
Now I was stretching and flexing with two interns outside the operating room at New York Downtown Hospital talking about our favorite skiing spots. I felt great. My knee felt flexible, firm and without pain. At the moment, all the aches and groans that go with pounding the pavement were gone. All the canceled dates and missed opportunities because I didn’t want to trek up and down subway steps were forgotten.
I was energized. I was convinced was healthy.
I was about to have knee replacement surgery.
I was about to bolt.
Thankfully, I didn’t because four months later, I was cross-country skiing across a beautiful, snow-covered meadow upstate. I was gliding through more than a foot snowfall, early for the season. I was creating a path, enjoying the view and watching my dog race ahead then drop on his back and make doggie snow angels.
We were on state land, carving trails and looking longingly south at the Alpine runs on Belleayre Mountain in the Catskills. I hadn’t dared ski downhill in a few years, knowing that my achy knee might let me down.
The next month, December, dreams of downhill danced in my head. I pushed through three times a week physical therapy, earning kudos and a scaled-back schedule.
February 2010. I was shushing down intermediate trails of freshly fallen snow at Shanty Creek Resort in northern Michigan.
And I was pain-free.
I was a downhill skier!
At my side was Randy Anderson, a level three Nordic and Alpine instructor and member of Professional Ski Instructors of America (PSIA) for more than 30 years. With his guidance and encouragement, I challenged myself to take on slopes I never thought I would ski again.
The day before I warmed up and practiced with a two-hour trek on some of the resort’s 31 km of cross-country trails. I reverse snow-plowed (ski tips out, heels in) up a small incline. I floated across a field and trudged through the woods.
I started my downhill morning being outfitted with a new set of parabolic skis, the wider, shorter boards which have replaced the longer, narrower skis I have. Just gliding over to the bunny slope I noticed a difference. A larger “sweet spot” makes skiing a breeze, turns graceful and balance better. These babies were easy to handle!
I effortlessly got on the rubber “people mover” – an escalator-like conveyor belt that hauls you up the tiny bump of a hill. I disembarked without difficulty but at the top I froze, nervously looking down the slope.
Could I do it? Fear hotly shot through my spine. The only way out was down. My self-talk went from take your time, stop if you feel scared to when doubt, sit it out. I slowly began my descent, making long, wide, loopy figure S-s in the snow.
It was just like getting back on a bicycle.
After a couple more runs, I was sailing down the hill, stopping with a jaunty turn. I was back!
Randy said it was time to tackle a beginner run so off we went to one of the mountain’s two double lifts. Again, at the top, I shakily looked down the slope then, encouraged, eased into a slow, controlled drop.
“Best way to stop, especially after a knee replacement, is to snowplow,” advised Randy who some of the time watched me as he skied backwards down the run. “Or take one ski out of the trail and single plow. Snow plowing uses hips.”
He also championed the new parabolic skis. “They are best, especially if you’ve had knee injury or replacement. There’s less stress on joint, because you don’t have to work as hard at turns and they are more forgiving,” he explained.
The turns were smooth, easy. I dusted away the fresh powder in my path. My confidence grew with each turn, every run. Randy said I was ready for intermediate trails. And off we went.
With two mountains and 49 runs, more than 67-percent of them beginner and intermediate level, my adventure was limitless. The 450-feet of vertical terrain and long, winding runs – the longest at 5,280-feet – gave my intermediary skills plenty of options.
My day was perfect: downy snowflakes the size of silver dollars sailed through the sky creating a fresh, fluffy carpet under my skis.
My confidence renewed, I know I’m ready for whatever snow this winter brings.
