My father was a champion ski jumper in Norway, and he taught me how to ski on his 7 foot jumping skis when I was about 8. At 12, I finally got a pair I could actually control, and I loved it.
Later in life, I couldn't go through a winter without hitting the upstate mountains of New York or Vermont for a week or two.
At 19, I got my back pretty messed up in a car wreck, but wouldn't quit skiing, but just cut back on some of the crazy stuff.
One year, at Stratton Mountain in Vermont, I pushed my luck and took a really bad spill. When I got my breath back, I laid on my back and took inventory of all my moving parts. Everything still worked. I put my skis over my shoulder and walked the rest of the way down to the lodge, and never put them on again.
I still have them, and it still saddens me to look at them, knowing that I can't ever do it again.
Anyone interested in buying a pair of Rosignols?