Multiple sclerosis didn’t stop this avid skier

I was 19 years old the first time I ever saw snow and the first time I ever skied. I was a sorry sight. I borrowed my college roommate’s warped wooden skies and her too-small boots and headed with my boyfriend to Alpine Meadows at Lake Tahoe.

After my first lesson, I could turn left. That was it. I made it down the bunny slope by tentatively skiing across the slope, turning left, skiing back across, purposely falling down, getting up facing back across the slope, and repeating the process. When a group of 5-year-olds whizzed past me, I wondered what I was doing there.

But I was captivated by the beauty of the mountains surrounding the deep blue of Lake Tahoe, and the way the snow glittered in the early morning sunlight. If skiing meant access to this winter splendor, I was hooked. I have skied every year since.

When I moved here to Spokane, I discovered that this Southern California girl developed a whopping case of SAD (seasonal affective disorder) as the bleak winter days set in. It was either hibernate for the winter or get out in the snow and play. Schweitzer beckoned, and I nurtured a skiing family.

As my multiple sclerosis gradually progressed and robbed me of my balance, the joke in my family was that I skied better than I walked. On the snow I still felt graceful, even while on dry land I resembled a drunken sailor.

As my MS progressed, I gave up my beloved bicycle for a recumbent tricycle. I had to leave my practice as an obstetrician gynecologist as my hands stopped working. But through it all, I skied.

Last March, I eagerly looked forward to a family ski trip at Lake Tahoe, my first time back since my college days. I couldn’t wait to share Lake Tahoe skiing with my family, and to explore the tougher runs that I had only gazed at longingly as a novice skier 30-odd years ago when I left California.

A few days before our trip, I began to have trouble walking. By the time we boarded the plane, I was in the midst of a full-blown flare and I could barely make it through the airport. Family newspapers won’t print the word that describes how I felt.

As my family went off to hit the slopes, I arranged for a course of intravenous steroids at the local hospital and began to search the Internet. My MS had robbed me of my job, but no way was it going to take away my skiing.

And that’s how I ended up on that very same slope at Alpine Meadows with the wonderful people of the Tahoe Adaptive Ski School. They work with blind skiers and skiers with severe cerebral palsy. They work with paralyzed skiers and skiers who have lost a leg. A skier with a mere MS attack did not daunt them in the least.

The first contraption I tried was called a “slider,” a walker with skis attached. I was desperate, but not THAT desperate! I tried the monoski that would allow me to ski in a sitting position. (It’s tricky.) But the instructors finally convinced me that I could still be a “stand-up skier,” and they fit me with a pair of “outriggers,” fancy arm crutches with a ski tip on the end. They turned me into a “four-track” skier, and my balance and weak left leg became a nonissue.

I never did get off that bunny slope at Alpine, but I bought myself a pair of those outriggers, and I am skiing my favorite slopes at Schweitzer, no problem. And Schweitzer has an adaptive ski and snowboard program if I need some pointers.

Now, I really DO ski better than I walk!

Those of us with disabilities have a myriad of opportunities these days to participate in sports of all types. We are limited only by our will to give it a go.