Skier’s Remorse: An Early-Season Lesson in Inertia
THE TELEPHONE RANG MUCH EARLIER than I had expected. “Moeller, get up,” the excited voice blurted. “It snowed 13 inches at Monarch. Let’s get rolling.” I clambered out of bed, looked out the window and grinned. The Pueblo sky was dumping fat, sloppy flakes the size of pancakes. Moments later Adam sped up to my …