Oh, My Knee!

Oh, My Knee!

My best friend and I have been working out together for 11 years. We met at our local community center while we were both pregnant with our second children. We’ve been fast and furious friends since…Soul Sistas. Since my BFF and I have reached our “Blossoming Middle Years,” we tend to notice aches and pains while working out. My BFF’s pain-in-her-arse at the moment is her shoulder and mine is my knee. You might ask, “How did such a nice woman hurt her knee?” Well, let me tell you…

My ski buddy and middle son, CH, 11-years-old

It was Spring Break 2012, Steamboat Springs, Colorado. This was our third year taking the boys skiing. Both my hubby and I love to ski and do it twice a year. I’ve gotten pretty good and comfortable with it. I no longer fear the mountain. Picture this, a crisp, snowy run called Heavenly Days set against a scenic view of Steamboat and a blazing blue sky. My middle son, CH, and I swishing down the mountain with smiles on our faces. I was really feeling it. Going fast and making almost perfect turns…and then all of a sudden I was rolling, flipping, flopping to a flat-on-my-back splat. I laid there for a minute catching my breath. I heard CH call out, “Mom, you okay?” I sat up, gave him the thumbs up. Unbelievably, I was okay. Absolutely nothing hurt. The people closest to me said it was a very graceful fall. I got up and continued down the mountain thanking my lucky stars.

That’s where my lucky stars left me for a different constellation. CH and I rode up on the next ski lift together, just the two of us. Some good “mommy-son time.” We chatted and talked about video games and snacks. Once we got close to the end of the ski lift, CH tells me how he fell off the last lift while riding with his Aunt and Uncle. This wakes my mamma-bear up. I tell him, “Okay, CH. This lift is tricky to get off of. Let’s start preparing now by scooting up to the edge of our seat.” We both scooted. The end was coming up…all of a sudden CH starts to hop all the way off, about 8 feet too soon. I shout, “No!” and pull him back by the butt of his coat. By the time he’s back in his seat, its time to get off the lift. I then push him off with both hands and he makes it off wobbly, but safely. The ski lift, however, has now begun to turn around to go back down the mountain with me on it….so I jump. This landing wasn’t graceful. I was a hot mess with skis flying, poles flying, curse words flying, legs spread eagle and my “blossoming middle years” knee twisted and tweaked.

What is the moral to this story? I have no idea. I just know that whenever I say, “Oh, my knee!” I think of that day in Steamboat. I think of my freckly, funny son. I think how lucky I am. I think how old I am. I think…I need some ice and ibuprofen.