Wonderful story! I grew up on the East Coast and started skiing in the mid 50’s. I went out for the Freshman ski team at Dartmouth. Training was running up mountains, and I really couldn’t cut it, so I ended up as a National Ski Patrolman at the Dartmouth Skiway in Lyme, NH. (I still have the blue and yellow canvas belt pack.) I know about that ice. After college, I was working at the Princeton Ski Shop on Fifth Ave in NYC, trying to figure out what to do with my life. I was driving to work the day they ran the first draft lottery. I missed the first 20 numbers called and sat in my car listening to the rest of the numbers. When they reached 350, I was convinced that I had drawn a number in the first 20. Sh-t! I was f-cked!… I know I was never good enough to be a serious racer, but I beat you, Dan, in one race. At the last minute they called my number— 356!! When I sit at the Tower Theater these days listening to raffle results, I am chill knowing that I won the biggest raffle ever!
Moondog, would love to buy you a beer some time. Yours truly, Strait Nait.
My wife tore her rotator cuff, broke her humerus, and tore her bicep tendon in a fall XC skiing at Meisner. She is an advanced alpine skier but a novice XC skier. XC skis allow very little control on downhill pitches. It is not quite as simple as the article would suggest.
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Moondog, would love to buy you a beer some time. Yours truly, Strait Nait.