You’ve Gotta Get Up from that First Fall

Wednesday, September 11, 2013

The first time I skied on a real mountain, I was ten. Prior to that, I’d skied only on the smooth, glacier-carved hills of the Midwest. The purple peaks of the Rockies were a different story. Before we get all philosophical, let me tell you about my outfit that day. I wore black stirrup pants tucked into neon orange boots. My jacket was hot pink, with hot pink Smith goggles…

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