Climbing into the loft Saturday night was excruciating. My fall in the Slides Saturday nearly ended my season prematurely. Despite skiing out and finishing the day, I was in pain.
Shuffling to the out house on uneven snow filled me with doubt about my first visit to Gore. My limp was pronounced as I dragged myself into the lodge and slowly got changed. To say I was not “feeling it” would be an understatement.
We boarded the Northwoods Gondola at opening bell and Harvey led the charge down Foxlair to Sunway. I was grimacing the entire way. The pain varied from throbbing to excruciating on a groomed green circle. I tried to hide my frown as we reboarded the gondola. I couldn’t bare to share with Harvey what I was thinking–this next run is going to be it. I can’t go on. Worse than the pain was the thought that I could wreck the post-lift season in a needless masochistic effort.
I thought I could handle a groomers only day. As disappointing as that would be, it was better than the alternative of driving home having only skied two runs at Gore. So we took Uncas and Topridge which further tested my resolve and pain tolerance. With each turn the pain subsided slightly; but I never completely felt in control. I was sliding along desperately trying to get the edges to bite without pressuring my right ankle. It was absurd–but I couldn’t yet push past the pain. We headed for the summit so I could at least see the rest of the mountain before crying mercy.