An Ode to Skiing Moguls
In the days when my legs could handle it (and snow boarders didn’t flatten out the bumps!)
2025 is my my 54th season of skiing. Even though there isn’t a mogul in sight, a bluebird day cruising on groomers at June Mountain is glorious!
The chairlift ride is long and cold, but my legs already anticipate burning turns over moguls.
I see the top of the mountain and the sign that says, “Keep your tips up.” Preparing to get off, I zip up my jacket. I glide down the ramp, turn right, and without stopping, ease ski pole straps over my gloves.
A black diamond run goes right under the chair, and that’s where I’m headed. I know if I stop to plan my run that I’ll overthink it, and the big bumps will psyche me out with paralyzing power.
I just keep going, letting gravity pull my skies over the edge. The first mogul rushes toward me like rapids in a river. I turn on top, gliding down the side and bam! I’m into the next one with knees flying towards my chest, absorbing shock like coiled springs. Bam! I do a split second set-up for the next turn. Knees bent. Poles in front. Pivot on top. Bam! Bam! Bam!
Snow is flying and the rhythm is going. Turn after turn, burn legs burn. Bam! Bam! Bam!
Can I keep going? Are the bumps coming faster than my legs can move? Wiping out? Almost. No.
I can feel the mountain relaxing into the flats. My skies run over smooth snow, and I uncoil into a glide. I want to stop, lean over my poles, unbuckle my boots, and breathe hard.
Instead, I head toward the lift line, hoping I have it in me to do it just one more time before the day is over.
Skiing with family in Colorado when I was young and my legs could really handle all the bumps!
You can’t see my face in this photo, but there is a lot going on. Notice the leather lace-up boots and wooden skies from the 1960’s! My dad is about to get super mad because I’m telling him (after he finally got us ready to ski) that I have to go to the bathroom. And yet, we all loved skiing so much. Ski trips are some of my very favorite childhood memories! This was taken at June Mountain where I am also skiing this week!
I’d love to know about something YOU love to do. Something that makes your heart sing when you’re in its glorious flow! It can be anything—gardening, knitting, pickleball, or making soup!
The third annual Poetry Pie Writing Challenge is coming soon! Details in the March 21st Substack. I can’t wait to write haiku with you—anyone can do it. It’s a great way to put your toe in the poetry pond!
The March Women’s Mini Retreat and the April Once-in-a-While Book Club are both sold out. Email (LorrieTom@LorrieT.com) if you’d like to be put on the waiting lists for future offerings.
I love that you take on black diamond hills and run moguls. I never got to that level. The South doesn't offer a whole lot of opportunities (or close to where I grew up) for snow skiing. Until a few years ago, pickleball was my go too. I could feel the burn in my legs and arms and sleep like a baby after a tournament. My body is in a pause right now. In the summer, it's all about walking to our dock and letting myself go in the water. Swimming and kayaking make me happy! Great post! Sounds like your brother may be a little competitive.
And that was always the difference between you and me skiing on the slopes - you were always "psyched out" from a little bump on the bunny slope. I always wanted to ski down the elevator shafts with refrigerators buried under the snow. Too bad you never caught up to my abilities - #truth is always hard to believe. Love ya sis!