My day began like any typical Saturday. I woke up, sipped a cup of coffee, and prepared my breakfast. The Seattle winter had been dreary and cloudy, but this morning, high clouds complemented the partly sunny skies. After two cups of coffee and a bowl of oatmeal, I was energized and ready for a road trip. The morning was off to a great start. My new friend picked me up, and we headed to the freeway. After navigating a series of winding roads, we finally arrived at the Mt. Baker Ski Area around mid-afternoon. We went to the Mountain Shop to rent our gear. Trying something new always stirs a mix of anxiety and excitement within me. I was pumped with adrenaline. Throughout the two-hour drive, Blaine—whom I had just met a few weeks ago—shared valuable insights about skiing. This would be my first time on skis, and I had no idea what awaited me.
Soon, we were off for my first run. It felt like a piece of cake; I quickly began to feel like a natural. After an hour, having successfully navigated the easiest runs, we decided to tackle some more challenging ones. As the sun began to set, we took a break to refuel and discuss one more run before heading home.
While we ate, we examined the ski map and contemplated our next and final run. Blaine suggested we try a “black diamond” run, explaining that the only difference was that it started at a higher elevation. Lacking any frame of reference, I mentioned that I wasn’t afraid of heights. “So I should be okay, right?” I thought. I might have been terrified at the prospect of barreling down the slope at 100 mph, but I kept that to myself. Blaine looked up from the map, a confident smile on his face, and said, “It’s a bit more advanced than the others, yes. But after seeing how you nailed it today, I assure you that you’ll sail through like a pro.” My ego had been stroked, and there was no turning back. Still, a nagging thought ran through my mind: What had I gotten myself into?
We made our way to the ski lift and climbed aboard. Instantly, my stomach began to churn. As the lift ascended higher and higher, I made the mistake of looking back. I lost my balance and clutched the safety bar tightly. It felt as if the other lifts we had been on were miles below, and we still hadn’t reached the top. My stomach turned, my knees shook, and I felt dizzy and disoriented. Blaine noticed my pale complexion and said, “Hey buddy, don’t look back. Everyone gets dizzy when they do that. Take a deep breath and keep your eyes forward!” I wasn’t entirely reassured.
I couldn’t fathom how I had overlooked the skulls and crossbones on the map, nor the ominous text—”Danger Cliffs”—in bold red. Perhaps I wanted to impress Blaine. I was having such a fantastic day that I didn’t want to spoil it. At the top, bright stadium lights illuminated the area to my left, while darkness enveloped everything else. A voice inside my head urged, “Find a toboggan and get the hell off this mountain!”
As we inched closer to the start of the run, I searched for emergency stairs, contemplating whether I could meet him at the bottom and live to ski another day. Blaine called out, “Take it slow, but don’t die! I’m outta here!” He laughed as he sped past, not giving me a second glance, disappearing into the night. He must have mistaken my look of sheer terror for excitement.
Standing alone in the darkness, I had no idea what to do. I imagined the lights flickering off, like a Kmart closing for the night, and feared being stranded and dying of hypothermia. I wondered why my fear of hypothermia outweighed my fear of plummeting to my death at 100 mph. I inched closer to the edge and peered down. It appeared to be a sheer cliff covered in snow. Taking a deep breath, I willed myself to move another foot closer.
After what felt like an eternity, I finally summoned the courage to go for it! I scanned the slope and calculated my moves. All I needed to do was make three or four sharp zigzags. My chances of survival seemed promising.
Completing the first zig and zag brought a sense of accomplishment. If I navigated the hill slowly, I could make it. Initially, I kept my movements small. However, the downward slope steepened, and the zigzags came more rapidly. On my seventh zag, I dropped to my knees and peered around a curve that seemed to vanish into nothing. I thought I could plow into the snowbank at the far right of the curve to cushion my fall. I stood up and pushed myself forward.
I headed toward the snowbank faster than I had anticipated and crashed right through it as if it were non-existent. There was nothing there. I soared through the air and headed straight for a tree. What felt like mere seconds stretched into five minutes in slow motion. I vividly remember my ski making first contact with the tree trunk. My bindings didn’t release. My body spun out of control, and my leg, caught in my boot, twisted around the tree. The initial shock of my knee twisting made me scream, and I saw stars. Desperately, I searched for something to grab onto to prevent myself from plummeting off the cliff. My hand found a branch, and I thought I would survive. A moment later, my grip failed as the weight of my body dislocated my shoulder. I spun around until my ribcage slammed against the tree. The impact halted my momentum, and I collapsed at the base of the tree, lying there like a rag doll, unable to move. I hoped I wouldn’t slide down the cliff and meet my end.
I don’t know how long I lay there, cold and stunned from shock. I wondered how long it would take Blaine to notice that I hadn’t come down. Eventually, I passed out. Some time later, I felt my body moving and realized I was being lifted into a rescue toboggan that had finally arrived. Better late than never! I felt air being pushed into my lungs and began to regain consciousness. A voice with a thick Australian accent asked if I could understand him. I nodded and lost consciousness again.
When I woke up, I found myself in the medic’s room, lying on a bunk bed. I heard voices and started to move. Blaine was there, asking if I was okay. I was grateful to be alive and thankful for all the assistance I received that night. Thankfully, I hadn’t suffered any broken bones or serious concussions. However, I would spend the next twelve months in rehab for a torn ligament in my right knee, a dislocated right shoulder, and a strained wrist.
In the years that followed, I dealt with chronic headaches, severe shoulder pain, knee pain when descending stairs, and periodic twists of my right ankle due to instability in my knee. It took me thirteen years to discover the Pilates method and realign my body. I was fortunate to learn from an exceptional instructor who broke down every mechanical aspect of movement, teaching me the importance of understanding the practice and the value of healing.
When you think about it, any form of exercise can be dangerous. Learning the necessary skills and gaining experience before advancing is crucial. I share my accident for two reasons. First, don’t make the same mistakes I did! Gain experience. Even if you excel initially, take your time and learn as much as possible. Many of my students come to their first class eager to skip the basics and jump straight into advanced classes. I always advise them to take it one step at a time, building a solid foundation. Second, trust your instincts. No matter what you think, your intuition is often stronger and wiser.