I’ve given myself a new ski motto, “last down the hill and first in the hot tub.” I prefer to get to the gondola as it first opens in the morning at 9 a.m. The waiting line is short, meaning fewer people on the mountain to run into me, or visa-versa. I ski to avoid injury, trying my best to avoid congested areas, while using the expanse of the trail for a longer turning radius. To many skiers, I might be considered a “mountain hog,” as I tend to cut a wide path, so I try to leave plenty of space between me and the masses. Most of my falls are on narrow paths or cat walks where I’m forced to do quicker cuts. This is not so much a factor of age, as it is skill level, since I’ve never been a competent, confident skier. I make more turns than the average skier and cover a lot more ground, so I’ve never been one to ski late in the day. It’s when most injuries occur to those that maybe won’t admit they are tired or feel like they need to get their money’s worth. The retail price for a single daily lift ticket here at Steamboat is about $160, so there is pressure to extend your day as long as possible. 

We are skiing as a group of five, with my friends patiently waiting for me to catch up. I’m always last; last to get my equipment on, last to make it to the lift: and last to get up from lunch. We stop for food about 11:30, once again hoping to avoid the noon rush, then it’s usually about an hour to ski to the bottom. You have to be careful with what you order when you’re in a state with legalized marijuana, so you need to ask what’s in the “Pot Pie?” It was just turkey today, so I didn’t have to endure other challenges in the race for the hot tub. 

Putting away the skis at about 1:15 is a full day for me, and I’m ready to hop in the hot tub. While I’m last all day, and feeling like I’m holding everyone up, I’m always the first of our group in the hot tub. I’ve just had enough of skiing by early afternoon. I’m the same way about golf and would rather play 9 holes than 18, so it’s more than just being physically tired. There is a certain sense of relief in that post-ski state of mind, grateful that nothing is broken or badly bruised – other than my ego, from always being last down the hill.