Dorothy and Oz*

This is an excerpt from my essay for OutdoorsNW Magazine for this week.  If you enjoy it, I hope you’ll click over to the website to read the whole essay.

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On a February morning in 2010 I was lying on my back in the snow feeling like Dorothy as I looked up at the faces of those gathered around me. They smiled encouragingly as it dawned on me…maybe my “agony of defeat” moment had been more than a typical wipeout. They were all there: the ski patrollers, my daughter and my husband, two neighbors, another friend, the kind man who had stopped and helped.

But the excruciating pain was gone, as was the shock of the fall, and I sat up.

“Oh, I don’t think I need that,” I said, looking at the patrollers’ sled. “I can make my way down.”

“Let’s just get you standing up,” one of them said. “Then we’ll see.”

They helped me to my feet and let go, but my leg just collapsed beneath me.

A friend gave me a knowing look.

“Don’t say it!” I said.

He didn’t have to.

The look said it all: blown knee, surgery, months of rehab.

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