Granddaughter Ellie Skis Alta's Baldy Chutes

Alta's Baldy Chutes.  The Main Chute is on the right.

Big Courage In a Small Package.

Ellie contemplating the Baldy Chutes.

In terms of determination and guts, I have some big shoes to fill: those of my 11 year-old granddaughter, Ellie Creech.   This last weekend, she climbed and skied Alta’s intimidating Baldy Main Chute.  This is a supreme accomplishment for any skier…but for an 11 year-old?                     It’s awe inspiring.  

It's a long way up.

To begin with, the hike up is daunting enough.   

It’s a tough slog up and parts of it are near vertical, like climbing a ladder.

Not for the faint of heart.

Slogging it out.

 It takes about an hour to get to the top, which is above 11,000 feet elevation.  

Ellie said the climb up was almost as scary as the first couple of turns down.  

Jason and Ellie at the top.

The drop into the Main Chute is near vertical too.   A fall could be very dangerous.
Fortunately, Ellie has an excellent instructor, mentor and guide--her father Jason.

Ready to drop in.

Ellie in the Main Chute.

Jason is a world class skier who lived in Aspen for more than a decade with Chris Davenport, a World Extreme Ski Champion and well known mountaineer/back country skier.  

Jason can flat out ski.   

So can Ellie. Three years on the Alta Race Team have molded her into a confident and 

strong skier who doesn’t flinch at the steep and deep.

An Epic day!

Jason and Erika chillin'.

Jason, Ellie and my daughter Erika are season pass holders at Alta, and ski 30 plus days a year.  Gratefully Erika, who was a Snowbird ski racer and expert skier herself, is back on the slopes again.  It makes my heart sing to see them on the hill together.

I hope to join them next year on my sit-ski…though I won’t be doing the Baldy Chutes.  I’ll be happy carving some nice turns on Sugarloaf or Collins. I’ll be the guy on a sit-ski with extra long legs and a big smile.  If you see me, wave and look for a hotshot redhead nearby.  That will be Ellie.

To see a POV video of Jason skiing the Baldy Main Chute in a previous outing, click here.

Paying for my stupidity one knee at a time.

More painful than tax day…guaranteed.

Is there anything more brainless than a testosterone driven 16-year-old male?  In my case, no.

This April 14, I will undergo right knee replacement surgery largely due to one Bonehead Moment in 1966.  In some ways it seems like yesterday.  This year will be the 50^th Anniversary of my Bonehead Moment, so it’s even more fitting.

Here’s my Bonehead Moment:

My Honda 160 Scrambler

It was a warm summer day. I can’t remember the exact date.  David Bickmore (my frequent partner in crime) and I were in front of his house, messing around on my motorcycle, a Honda 160 Scrambler, which was the 60’s version of an off-road bike. Translation: messing around means having too much time on our hands, which spells trouble.

 

Here’s the Bonehead part: the throttle cable, which hooks into the twist grip on the right handlebar, had broken.  It was just hanging loose unconnected, so to rev the engine, you had to pull on the cable with a pair of plyers.  That would have been enough for anyone of average intelligence to put the bike away and get it repaired before driving it one foot.

   

Not this 16-year-old testosterone-soaked idiot.  I figured I could drive it home with a pair of plyers in one hand and steer with my left hand on the handlebars.  But there’s more.  I also figured that before I drove home, I would go over the homemade jump that David and I rigged up on the street in front of his house.   It was very highly engineered....a ramp made of plywood with one end on a cinderblock. 

Evel Knievel used better judgement

With Evel Knievel in my head (and not much else) I took a run at the jump.  Predictably, the motorcycle went up the jump, the piece of wood teeter-tottered and I came down on the other side front wheel first.  Also predictably, with only one hand on the handlebars, I lost total control of the bike and crashed, jamming my straight right leg into the pavement, and ripping my knee to shreds.  

My 1966 Surgeon

I was sure I had broken my leg…which in the long run would have been better.  I succeeded in tearing my ACL and MCL, requiring major surgery, which in 1966 was performed with a chainsaw rather than an arthroscope.

. 

That little episode effectively ended my high school athletic career (and motorcycle jumping), requiring a good two years to rehab.  However, the knee held up pretty well until the last few years.  

Dr. Thomas Rosenberg 

Now 50 years later, it needs replacing, so on April 14, I’ll be in the Park City Hospital as Dr. Thomas Rosenberg attempts to repair the damage caused by my Bonehead Moment of 1966.   Any pain coming my way is entirely deserved and expected.

 

 I also expect that I’ll survive and do well in the long run.  He’s an excellent surgeon and I’m no stranger to physical therapy and rehab.   Dr. Rosenberg says that in terms of pain in my knee, it will be at least a year before I forget that I’ve had the surgery.  In this case, I think he’s wrong.  This surgery was 50 years in the making.  While the pain may subside, the memory of it will likely be with me for my remaining days. 

Putting gravity to work so I can play on my birthday.

March 4, 2016.  My 66^th birthday turned out to be one for the ages.  I skied Alta with my daughter Erika and granddaughter Ellie…something I never thought I’d do.  I had given up downhill skiing in 2003, when a neurosurgeon  cautioned me about skiing because of the weak spot in my neck from my original spinal cord injury. So I took up cross country…safer, great exercise and a lot cheaper.  But I missed being at the top of the mountain, and I missed the adrenalin rush and effortless fun of bombing down the slopes. 

 With granddaughter Ellie at Alta. Behind me is Ginger,
a freestyle coach at Deer Valley, who was assisting that day.
At the bottom is the ski instructors pin  I earned a
month before I broke my neck.  I took it along for good luck.

Ellie ripping GS gates.

I resigned myself to the sidelines, as I watched my granddaughter Ellie turn into an accomplished skier and member of the Alta Race Team.  Then when my daughter Erika was able to overcome her CIDP and return to the slopes, it got even tougher sitting in the lodge while they hit the slopes

. 

Enter Dr. Jeffrey Rosenbluth, head of the University of Utah Spinal Cord Rehabilitation unit.  He suggested I try a sit-ski, through TRAILS (Therapeutic Recreation and Independent Lifestyles) a recreation program at the University of Utah hospital for spinal cord injury survivors like me.  New technology had made sit-skis much easier to use and shortened the learning curve.

   

At the top of Sunnyside with
Mt. Superior behind me.

The bi-ski I was on is basically a frame with a bucket seat mounted on two regular skis.  It’s designed so that as the skier transfers weight to one side or the other, the skis articulate and turn effortlessly.  It also has a handle in the rear that provides for a stand-up skier to ski behind, providing stability and assistance in learning.  It’s a bit like learning to ride a bike with your dad running behind you holding on to the saddle.  Mostly it was a big rush.

 

My co-pilot was Casey, an exercise physiology graduate, expert skier and sit-ski instructor who works for the TRAILS program.  I would start the turns by angling a left or right outrigger attached to my arm which would turn my body in the proper direction and Casey would help me finish the turn and provide the necessary stability. My previous training as a ski instructor prior to my injury was invaluable, as the physics of turning a sit-ski are very similar.  Lead with your head, keep your shoulders on the same plane as the slope and you’re on the right track.

 

Ellie and Erika ready to
shred the Alta pow.

We didn’t pussyfoot down the hill.  We were cranking it, making some great turns and passing a lot of skiers at what felt like Mach 2.  We skied Sugarloaf and Sunnyside lifts and even got in a black diamond called Extrovert. But the best part was having my two girls with me on the hill.

My next move will be to a mono-ski, which has the same dynamics, but is more advanced.  You sit higher and have more freedom…and there’s no co-pilot.  You’re flying solo on one ski.  I can’t wait.  To think that I can get back on the hill and share some turns with my family is beyond belief.

I learned once again that having a spinal cord injury doesn’t spell the end of a fun, dynamic outdoor lifestyle.  You just have to open your mind to new ideas, problem solve and adapt your thinking.   That’s why they call it adaptive recreation.

 

My sincere thanks to Dr. Rosenbluth for his visionary TRAILS program and for urging me to give it a try and to Casey, who worked so hard to make sure I had a great time.  Casey, by the way, just got accepted to medical school at the University of Utah. Congratulations! He’s going to be one great compassionate doctor!

Header Photo:  Cycling in Capitol Reef National Park, Utah    Photographer:  Bill Raddatz

Turning Disability into Thrivability.

I was born March 4, 1950, which makes today the perfect day to introduce my new blog about my life before and after a paralyzing spinal cord injury.

Like many young boys, I spent the first twenty-two years of my life pursuing the joys of competitive sports.  I began swimming and playing baseball when I was seven.  I swam in the AAU Junior Olympics and pitched in the WBBA Little League World Series when I was 12. I also began taking guitar lessons at 13, when the Beatles and the Beach Boys stirred my young soul.

I continued swimming and playing baseball through high school and mixed in a stint on the tennis team until a motorcycle accident destroyed my right knee when I was 16, effectively ending my high school athletic career.  But I continued my musical pursuits as a lead guitarist in a rock and roll band. 

In 1968, our band was featured on a national television show hosted by Paul Revere and the Raiders. We toured briefly as the opening band for Mitch Ryder and the Detroit Wheels and submitted an audition tape to Dunhill Records.

College days, channeling
Steve McQueen.

In 1969, college and military commitments put an end to our band.  I chose to attend Utah State University, where I majored in journalism, and continued to play music to earn money.  I also earned my certification as a professional ski instructor and taught skiing.  Skiing and being in the mountains became the love of my life. I found the second love of my life and married Jayne Smith on June 12, 1971.

A year later I started life over.  On May 29, 1972, I dove into a reservoir and hit a submerged tree stump, breaking my neck.  I was instantly paralyzed from the neck down.  Life as I had known it was over.   Fortunately, I had not completely severed the spinal cord.  Within a year, with a lot of good fortune and hard work, I could walk and had some use of all my limbs, although I was much weaker and had lost much coordination.   But, I had been given a second chance and vowed to make the most of my physical abilities in returning to the outdoor active life that I loved.

At the MS Bike finish line
with granddaughter Ellie.

Within five years, I was riding bicycles, playing golf and skiing again, although at a much reduced level of performance. But I had reestablished the connection with outdoor physical activity that my spirit craved.   In the next two and half decades, I went on to build a successful career as an advertising copywriter and eventually became a partner and creative director of an advertising agency.  I continued my active lifestyle, skiing, riding bicycles, playing golf and boating.  In 2006, I left the advertising agency to pursue a freelance writing career.

Shortly thereafter, my only daughter Erika, 26 years old at the time, became seriously ill with an autoimmune disorder known as chronic inflammatory demyelinating polyneuropathy (CIDP), resulting from multiple orthopedic surgeries and subsequent staph infections.  A former ski racer, competitive figure skater, white water kayaker and rock climbing instructor, she experienced a substantial loss of function in her arms and legs, with a loss of balance and strength that severely limited her mobility.  The similarity of her physical struggles to mine was beyond belief. She had a battle ahead of her and my new life was being a caregiver and support for her and for my granddaughter Ellie. 

At Alta, only 13 miles
from my house!

In the last five years, my life has taken a challenging turn once again.  Now 66, I have been experiencing a substantial loss of function, strength and balance due to my aging spinal cord injury.  Today I’m walking with a cane again and living in more pain due to constant muscle spasms.  But I have not lost my drive to continue my outdoor active lifestyle. I’m now using a sit-ski instead of stand-up skis and riding shorter distances on my bike, but I’m still swimming and working out regularly.  I’m about to undergo knee replacement surgery on my previously damaged right knee. But I will not give up.

While laying immobilized, still paralyzed right after my accident, a stark realization etched itself into my soul: we only get one of these marvelous machines we call our body.  Why would we not care for it, maximize its capabilities and use it to find the joy in nature that is there for all of us?

I know that none of us can foresee what life has in store for us.  I also know that the human spirit is stronger than any adversity life can throw our way.   With love and support from family and friends and our own inner strength and determination, we can thrive, not just survive.  I invite you to join me in my quest to make the most of every day.  Together we can push the limits, enjoy better health and a live a joyful life!