On January 16 2009 I was enjoying a beautiful day of skiing at Breckenridge Ski Resort. The sky was clear, the sun was shining, and the conditions were great on the Imperial Bowl, the highest lift-accessible terrain at the resort. My wife and I took turns making videos of each other skiing the main part of the bowl. Each time we would meet at the base of the difficult terrain and slowly make our way across the relatively easy terrain to the dedicated lift that serves the bowl. One fateful trip I suddenly dropped to the ground as I neared the lift. I rolled a few times, and as I did my right ski came off, but my left held firm. Serving as a brake to my rolling legs, I watched in horror as my lower left leg twisted around in ways it should not. I knew my leg was broken before I stopped rolling, and when I came to rest facing partially uphill, the terrible pain below my knee confirmed my worst fears. Shortly my wife and a passerby stopped to check on me. I told them my leg was broken and soon a ski patrol team was on the scene. As I lay suffering I quizzed my wife and the man who stopped to help. What happened? Did I catch an edge? I did not feel out of control, I just suddenly went down. My wife had not witnessed the accident, but the man said I appeared to be in control until I just went down. Meanwhile the ski patrol asked me, "What is your tolerance for pain?" To this I replied, "I have no idea, I have never been injured like this, why do you ask?" He said if I could not take any more pain then we could wait for a doctor to come and give me a pain relieving shot on the mountain. Alternatively we could start down without the shot. I requested to get the heck out of there, and take my chances with the pain. So they brought up a sled, put me on a board, and hooked me to the waist of a ski patrol member. The hardest part of this process was when they straightened out my leg, because I had assumed the fetal position upon the end of my fall. When they pulled my leg straight the pain was something I cannot even describe. I always imagined that if I ever broke a bone like this then I would just pass out from the pain. But I think my adrenaline must have kicked in to combat the pain because oddly, I was very alert and cogent all the way down the mountain. After sometime they stopped and transferred me to a snow mobile, which towed me to the door of the emergency clinic at Breckenridge. The ride down seemed to take a long time but happen at a fast speed. My wife informs me that it was about half an hour because in contrast to my sense of speed, they were actually going very slowly. I guess things seem faster when you are coming down the mountain upside down. Lying in the sled, facing up hill, seeing only the legs of other skiers as we passed by, feeling the snow kick over my face, I was in disbelief. How did I fall? It had been several years since I had really fallen while skiing. Sure I would lose control every now and then, but I would just cut my edge and regain control. I simply did not fall and roll like I did that day. And why didn't that darn ski come off? I have my bindings professionally tested and set each season, and I had only skiied on these bindings a few times since the last test. So why did the ski hang on? Why is this happening to me? How bad is it really, and what comes next?
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