My first question to the surgeon was: “will I ever be able to ski again?”
Born and raised in the upper Midwest, I relish an opportunity to get in a ski binding. Skiing (on water or snow) was a cornerstone of my upbringing.
My mom was dead set on making sure I was a confident all season skier. My days started on a boat platform in the middle of the lake, neon wetsuit on, fingerless gloves Velcro-ed, oversized hand-me-down life jacket clipped, and ski bindings tightened while my mom singsonged “One for the money, two for the show, three to get ready, and four to GO!!”
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Elin and her gal pals in the gondola
Skiing gave me confidence and provided me the opportunity to meet new people and go to places far from where I grew up.
One of my favorite annual events is a Galentines ski weekend in Vail with a girl gang I’ve grown up with – all bonded by our love of skiing and getting outside.
I always felt strongest in ski bindings–water or snow. I was untouchable. I was independent. I was in control.
Until my binding betrayed me last April.
So far it was a successful 2021 season. I had many trips out west to northern Arizona, Wyoming, Idaho and Colorado under my belt. A final spring ski trip to Snowmass with my older brother and some friends seemed like a great way to top it off.
We waited until midday for the spring snow to loosen up after freezing overnight. We took a few icy runs, then decided to cut through the resort to look for something softer.
On the race down to the bottom of the chair lift, I found the slush.
A bumpy ride down in a ski patrol sled soon followed, I lay face up embarrassed as chairlift riders watched me go by. “You need to get to Aspen Valley hospital right away” the doctor on call reported after reviewing my x-rays.
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Elin’s POV day of surgery. The future looked bleak.
Upon further review from the foot and ankle orthopedic surgeon, I was screwed. Literally. I needed reconstructive surgery and a few screws. I suffered a complex spiral fracture breaking my leg and ankle in various places and obliterating my tendons and ligaments. My first question to the surgeon was: “will I ever be able to ski again?”
My confidence was shot. I put a lot of my self-worth in the ability to move, to do, and to be independent. I was slated to be on crutches for a few months. Things got dark. Frustration mounted. I shouted at staircases. Snapped at my supportive care team. And grumbled at grandmas who took the handicap parking places.
With physical therapy 3x a week, my confidence slowly crept up as I regained my range of motion. Steadily, I began placing my foot down, mimicking a step, and walking with assistance. Soon I was ready to leave the crutches behind as I prepared to spend a bachelorette weekend in the woods celebrating my oldest and dearest friend (& Hoohah founder)!
8 1/2 months post-surgery – just a few days ago – I decided it was time to rip off the band-aid and get back in bindings. My anxiety weighed heavy as I buckled my boots and the flashback of my fall hit me. I really didn’t want to end my day looking up at another chair lift of concerned skiers and snowboarders. I considered bailing and blaming it on an effort to beat the I-70 ski traffic back to Denver before carrying my skis to the gondola.
With a fresh tune-up, fresh groomers, and the encouragement of friends who reminded me the first rule of skiing is to believe in yourself, I nailed my first run.
Elin's first day back skiing a blue run on a bluebird day.
I still have a long way to go. Stairs are met with hesitancy and the hope there might be a hand railing. Every step I take throughout the day coincides with a now familiar dulled pain. All that said, I’m excited to master some moguls, après, and move my Hoohah more in 2022.
xoxo
-Elin