Riddell: Fighting holiday stiffness

Rigor mortis is defined by the New Oxford American Dictionary as “medicine suffering of the joints and muscles of a body a few hours after death, usually lasting from one to four days.” Based on this, I clearly am the survivor of a neardeath experience, one that occurred on the slopes of Winter Park, Colo., one short week ago.

The cause of this experience was a personal bout of amnesia that assumed that snowboard learnings from two years ago would translate into real-time muscle memory and reactions. Not even close!

Previously well-executed turns and controllable stops denigrated into sudden face plants and uncontrollable slides. While a sudden thrusting of your face — particularly your nose — into snow does arrest forward momentum, it is not the recommended technique.

The falling down was not nearly the issue as was the getting back up. With both feet firmly strapped to a 5 foot board, getting back up took on all the trappings of a Chevy Chase pratfall without the commentary. That seeking verticality also took place on a severe and slick slope just added insult to injury.

Strength, balance, determination and an acute fear of embarrassment all contributed to that single and fleeting moment of exhilaration and relief when uprightness was finally achieved. Sadly, the moment passed all too quickly and the struggle resumed.

There certainly were breaks in the carnage, but for two and a half hours this struggle continued. For example, when you finally get to the bottom of the hill, you unbuckle one boot and push yourself and your board along the snow to get in line to go back up the hill. You wouldn’t think that this would be too difficult until you realize that, unlike Gumby, 55-year old joints strongly resist bending in ways that they have never bent before.

Once on the lift, life is a wonderful ride until that moment of truth arrives. You have to ease up to the edge of your seat, turn your entire body sideways and then launch down a ramp with the shaky belief that all is well. It never is! Falls and collisions with others trying the same maneuver underscore the need for helmets, padding, and alert lift operators.

All of this “fun” culminates in the evening’s repose, a reclining in the easy chair in front of the warm fireplace, beverage of choice in hand. Then suddenly you realize that you cannot move. Every joint, every muscle, every ligament, every hair hurts. Even bald spots hurt.

Together they conspire to produce an awareness of the definition of rigor mortis, and in my case it lasted for three days. Anecdotal remedies ranging from increased exercise to increased libations all failed miserably. Finally day four arrived, and with it no pain. Life was good once again.

Sincere thanks for reading the column this past year and best wishes for a happy and prosperous 2009. I hope your day is full of optimism for what the future will bring. I’m feeling so good, I may even go snowboarding!