Even though I have spent 39 years of my life in the Midwest of the United States of America, most of those years in Wisconsin, I have never gone skiing.
This weekend I am making the trek up to my home state with a group of my friends to purposely hurtle myself down a mountainside and hope to heaven that I don’t end up crushed in a pile at the bottom.
Now of course, I’m not going to be stupid about it. I’m going to take lessons and start on the proverbial “Bunny Hill,” or whatever they call it at Alpine Valley Ski Resort. And I can pretty well guess that the “mountain” at Alpine Valley will look nothing like the photo at right, with jagged cliffs and deep gorges.
Still, I’m a tad nervous.
And I won’t be alone, either. There are a bunch of us in the group who have never skied before, so at least I won’t be the only one learning how not to break my nose.
But if I come back in a complete body cast, you’ll know why.
Heaven help me.