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“Let’s go the top.” I was feeling confident. “The top top.” After all, I had snowboarded on my own two feet just last weekend. No sit-ski. No tethering with worried instructors trying to keep me from hitting a tree. Just me and my snowboard and a pair of outriggers. And I totally ripped up the slopes. Well, technically “slope” (singular), and more specifically, the bottom third of the bunny hill, which is noted for having a pitch imperceptible to the naked eye. But still. I mean, the last time I had snowboarded was in the spring of 2009 on champagne snow, carving effortless turns on black diamond steeps. I was sure after last weekend that it was all coming back to me. I just needed a little vertical.
“Dave, do you mean the top of the bunny slope?” My adaptive snowboard instructor, Nick, wasn’t so confident. His skeptical radar went off and an eyebrow raised. So I pleaded. He listened patiently. I pleaded some more. And then a wee bit more. He finally relented. In minutes I was riding the lift again with my wife, the only thing keeping me from smothering her with excited kisses was a terrified Nick sitting between us. Still, all was right in the world. And then we reached the top....
http://activemsers.blogspot.com/2013...molehills.html
“Dave, do you mean the top of the bunny slope?” My adaptive snowboard instructor, Nick, wasn’t so confident. His skeptical radar went off and an eyebrow raised. So I pleaded. He listened patiently. I pleaded some more. And then a wee bit more. He finally relented. In minutes I was riding the lift again with my wife, the only thing keeping me from smothering her with excited kisses was a terrified Nick sitting between us. Still, all was right in the world. And then we reached the top....
http://activemsers.blogspot.com/2013...molehills.html
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