For the next few weeks, True Stories Well Told is featuring essays by writers in my “Start Writing Your Life Story” workshop at the Art Lit Lab in Madison in Fall 2023. My next workshop there starts in April 2024.

By Mary Gwen Schneider

At twelve years old, my first experience of downhill skiing left me madly in love with the sport. It was 1969 and alpine ski racer Jean- Claude Killy and I both owned Rossingnols. Skiing came naturally to me and I felt carefree as I schussed down various terrain with little effort. For thirty-eight years I mastered mountains. I earned level two ski instructor certification and it proved valuable in working with all abilities. I became the director of a national children’s program. When my husband and I started our family, our own two children were taught the motto, “If you can walk, you can ski.”

When I reached my mid-fifties, I faced some serious medical issues and was handed the news that my downhill skiing days were over. It was almost unbearable to process! When the first flakes of snow flew each season, and my crew left for our local ski hill, my heart hurt. That’s what we always did together, each season.

Finally after ten long years I was granted permission to return to my favorite activity. My doctors, family and I all agreed that with helmet improvement and my ability, the joy skiing brought to me outweighed the risks. Not wasting a moment, I hit the slopes. I glided and turned as though I had never left. Daily my legs got stronger and I stayed out longer. Winter mornings were spent traversing green runs with my grandchildren and in the afternoons we sipped hot chocolate. That tradition continued and my heart was full, the torch was being passed to the next generation!

Beaming in confidence and soaking up the beauty of the well groomed sunlit trail, I took my time and lagged behind a bit. About halfway down the familiar route we had skied at least four times that morning, my ski edge caught and I went down. Fortunately, my pride was the only glaring injury!  Looking around, I discovered no one had observed the wipe-out. It was almost noon, so most people had headed to the lodge for lunch. It’s quiet, I realized, “no spectators.” Embarrassment took hold, an avid skier like me wasn’t supposed to wipe out on such simple terrain. Moving quickly, dusting myself off, removing the evidence, I prepared to stand. Hurrying, not wanting any more time to pass, I tried to lift myself off the snow, but lacked core strength. My talented group was probably waiting at the chairlift for me, scanning, searching, wondering where I was. Numerous failed attempts to rise allowed panic to creep in. Years of demonstrating proper technique to classes on how to fall and get back upright was one thing I always prided myself on. Now all I felt was humiliation!

Plan B- I chose my tried and true, trusty second option. All you have to do is simply roll onto your stomach and push yourself up by walking backwards with your hands. Well a failed surgery on my now worthless right wrist, no longer allowed that! “What?”  I thought. “How was this happening? This can’t be that hard.” Irrational thoughts and fears I had only ever witnessed in my students were beginning to form. Slowly I began to comprehend what those I had previously coached experienced. This must be what being a beginner feels like! I reminded myself that I had encouraged every level and age to keep trying and I was fighting to stay focused. Scanning uphill yet again, I spotted not a soul. “Thank God!” I wanted to scream. I resorted to the final trick I had up my teaching sleeve. In the worst case scenario, when all else failed you popped off one ski and stood. No go!! Anger mounted at my dysfunctional right hand for not having the strength to push down and release the binding. Putting faith on my left wasn’t any help either. Deeply devastated and defeated I collapsed in a puddle of tears. But then, within moments my husband appeared, swiftly climbing back up the hill to my rescue.

My dignity had been restored.

I continue to exercise and do core strength. Since that day, I have been known to practice falling and rising again, in my living room, complete with skis and boots on.

I am ready to meet my love again!

© 2024 Mary Gwen Schneider

Mary Gwen Schneider has written poems and short stories since she was young. After over thirty years of working with children, she is now retired. She lives with her husband and enjoys spending time with her children, their spouses, and her two grandchildren. She looks forward to writing and sharing more of her life stories.