That Time I Went Skiing

Also known as “That Time I Broke My Ass.”

I’m not known for being coordinated. Anyone who knows me in real life will be thinking, “That’s the understatement of the year,” but that’s basically the truth. I’m not one of those people who can walk from one place to the other without tripping over something. Sometimes it’ll be a something that I didn’t see and other times it’ll be tripping over my own feet. Occasionally this leads to broken bones and scrapes, but mostly it just leads to my being pretty darn embarrassed.

Eighth grade was a lot of fun for middle school, but it wasn’t kind to me as far as my bone health went. Aside from breaking my foot after hopping a fence/rail type thing at Carowinds, there was also the incident that occurred when our grade went on a ski trip.

My grandmother encouraged me to stay home from that trip, by the way. She knew. Obviously that wasn’t happening, since the ski trip was a pretty big deal, so I assured her that I would be fine and went.


After we got to the ski lodge, I went through the thing they had set up for beginners and by lunch time, I was ready to go down the intermediate trail. So I went down it a couple of times to build up my confidence.

My confidence built up quickly. Too quickly.

The third time I went down, I decided to go down fast, so down the hill I went in a straight line, like a damn bullet.

About halfway down, I realized that I was going too fast. I knew that if I didn’t start slowing my ass down, I would going to crash into something or someone at the bottom. So, I turned my skis inward to try to slow down. Except I turned my skis in too much so that they crossed to form an X, and I lost my balance. Not good. I did a front flip, landed hard on my butt, and rolled down the hill.


My body hurt all over, but not as bad as my ego. A classmate helped me up, and I was done for the day. At least I got to enjoy half of the day.

The next day, my butt region was so sore that my grandma wouldn’t let me go to school and took me to the doctor.

After doing an x-ray, the doctor told me that I fractured my tailbone. I was told to take it easy, no softball (and tryouts were the very next week), and that I should sit on a little cushion to stay comfy while it healed up.

After the weekend, I went to school with my cushion. I didn’t think anything about it until a friend snatched it up and exclaimed, “Erika, you got hemorrhoids?!” during homeroom. Heads turned.

I explained to her that no, I did not have hemorrhoids and that I had fractured my tailbone.

About eight years later, I decided to give skiing another try. This is how far I made it:

I totally froze up and wasn’t moving anywhere. My body knew right then that it had no business trying to go skiing, so after much discussion over whether or not we should stay and see if I changed my mind, we ended up asking for a refund. Even though there weren’t supposed to be any refunds, we were given one anyway. I suppose the look of sheer panic on someone’s face will bend the rules a bit.

Have you ever broken your ass? How about any other bones?