Thirteen Horseshoes

Ullr Fest is a week-long celebration where events are held in Breckenridge, Colorado to celebrate Ullr, the Norse god of Winter. Tourists and locals flood the streets with drinks in hand and viking helmets overhead to partake in the annual parade where hand-crafted floats are driven down Main Street. Later that night, Christmas trees are piled into a spire for a massive bonfire.

I woke up on Friday the Thirteenth ready to ski. Breckenridge received in excess of four feet of snow the week leading up to the last day of Ullr Fest. The snow was deep on my first run. I took a path through the trees that led me down an embankment that bottomed out and transformed into a trek through the woods lacking any downward momentum. I searched for traces of an exit but the trees offered no escape. There were no signs of human tracks, but there were large moose-prints on the trail.

I emerged briefly from nature’s ensnarement and witnessed the mountain’s true beauty. The sun enlightened the pristine snow. Trees delicately traced the edges of a virgin slope. I had found the perfect drop, the run that will assist in my escape. I screamed in jubilee as I skied down the mountain…until the hill bottomed out once again.

I recognized during this arduous journey through the forest that I was nature’s guest. This was not my domain. I treated the roots and branches with respect. I acknowledged the beauty of my surroundings. The delicacy of this experience. I was merely a visitor. I prayed for a way out. I looked to my left and saw a familiar chairlift to use as my compass. I exited the forest with an immense appreciation for its wonder, and relief for escaping its wrath.

There is no sensation like standing on top of the world, inches away from heaven, gaze transfixed by the entirety of civilization beneath. This mountain was where I felt like I was flying. Skis gliding over the snow. Weightlessness. However, this day was not like the last. The snow was thick and coarse compared to the light mounds of powder that facilitate flight. My skis gripped and grabbed at the snow instead of soaring above it. I felt uneasy about the terrain as I cautiously made my turns. The edge of my ski caught the snow and catapulted me towards the earth. Two rubber bands popped inside of my knee as I was ejected from my skis. I screamed for help. I knew I was fucked.

Good samaritans skied to my aid as they planted my equipment into an “X” formation to designate my ineptitude to move. Shortly thereafter, ski patrol arrived and accessed the extent of my injury. They determined the best course of action, and loaded me into their toboggan to transport me to the base of the mountain. It was a beautiful day. I felt fortunate for that.

I arrived at the medical center and was diagnosed with a grade 3 MCL tear. I received a knee brace and crutches, and one of the assistants helped carry my gear to the car where my roommate was waiting for me. I spent the next two days attempting to find a comfortable position to sit or lie down. I wallowed in my misfortune. I traveled across the country to ski and here I am, injured. However, this injury also allowed time for self-reflection and perspective. Instead of viewing my circumstances negatively, I found solace in realizing that it could be worse. This is an opportunity for me to re-evaluate my priorities. I was neglecting the signs of fatigue that my body was communicating to me. I am blessed in the fact that I do not need major reconstructive surgery, and that my ski season is not over. I am grateful for this injury because it can serve as a redirection for my life. An opportunity to improve myself and my standard of living. I’ll be back, better and stronger than before. Thank you Ullr, this life lesson is much appreciated.