10/06/2026
It’s taken me a while to post this, but here it is. 🫣
Two months ago, I caught an edge I couldn’t recover from while skiing down The Saddle on Whistler Mountain. I fell hard.
Honestly, it’s all a blur. I remember being grateful when I finally stopped and realized I wasn’t in immediate pain. I took a moment to collect myself. I was embarrassed. Grateful I hadn’t hurt anyone else. I declined offers of help from complete strangers because, in that moment, I felt fine.
I pulled myself up and mentally said, “Just get to the bottom of the run and you’ll be fine.”
So I did.
I pointed myself downhill, but as soon as I went to make my first turn, I knew I was in trouble. There was nothing in my knee. No strength. No stability. My whole leg failed me in that moment—for the second time in 30 years.
I fell again.
This time longer.
Harder.
When I stopped, I was in disbelief. I haven’t fallen skiing in years, and now I’d just done it twice, back-to-back. Embarrassment washed over me so intensely until anger took over.
I kicked my skis off in response. I was upset, full of adrenaline, and desperate to get off the mountain. This time my brain told me, “Let’s walk down instead”.
So I stood up. And instantly fell.
That’s when the tears came.
I still felt no pain, but I knew something was very wrong. My legs have always been my greatest strength, and in that moment, they were made of rubber.
Long story short, my husband dragged me off the run. We called ski patrol. I was taken to emergency. X-rays showed nothing, but the MRI a week later revealed the extent of the damage:
Bilateral ACL tears (one complete, one barely hanging on)
Grade 2 MCL tear
Torn meniscus, with one flipped (on my right knee only, thank god)
Multiple additional ligament and muscle tears
For the first week I was in denial.
I dreamed of waking up healed.
I dreamed of walking, hiking, even kicking a snake (don’t ask 😂) only to wake up from a nerve twitch followed by intense agony.
Eventually, I started to accept my fate.
I’d been here before.
As a child, I spent months in hospital, underwent countless surgeries and had to learn how to walk again.
Ironically, it was that 30-year-old injury—one I’d been compensating for my entire life—that contributed to the extensive damage I have now.
To ski with minimal pain, I used a backcountry setup with pin bindings. Bindings that don’t release as easily in a fall. Bindings that ultimately caused significant damage to the same leg I’d spent decades trying to strengthen and overcome.
That realization sent me into a spiral.
I was—and still am—hard on myself.
Why did I feel the need to prove I could do everything everyone else could? Maybe I had no business skiing at all.
But I’m here now.
I can’t change what happened, I can only change how I respond. I truly believe the resilience I built through past challenges is what will get me through this one.
I’m now one week post-op on my right knee, and I’ll likely need surgery on my left. It’s a long road ahead. No hiking this year, but right now I’d settle for being able to walk to the bathroom unassisted.
The small milestones will carry me through.
I’ve met incredible people navigating similar injuries. I have amazing friends who lift me up on the days I can’t lift myself. And I have the best husband 🤍
Life is going to look very different for a while, but you better believe I’ll be pushing myself to come back even stronger than before✌🏼
