Sorin invited me to go with sking with he and David for the weekend. It was the end of the season and he reasoned it would not be crowded. We arranged for a car and drove out of Bucharest about three hours to Poiana Brasov where we found an inexpensive hotel for the night. The equipment rental was cheap and decent but I had no real ski clothes, just jeans and a light waterproof jacket.
Sooooooooo I took the opportunity on Sunday to abuse by body in the name of physical fitness. I now have become painfully reaquainted with muscles I forgot I had and have aquired a pair of (lower) cheek bruises to boot. And a touch of sunburn to brighten my presence.
The mountain was only 4,500 ft high and I was assured that skiing like riding a bike comes back quickly (an erroneous metaphor I believe). Picture in your mind your well insured spouse bouncing and careening down a this mountain like an un-rounded billard ball attached (at times) to two 170 mm slats of fiberglass that those who know how to use them call skis.
With visions of our Alta trips (never mind being buried in the avalanche) dancing in my head and no instructor or bunny hill my "relearning" began at the top of the mountain on solid ice. The steepest part of the mountain occasionally had adequate but chopped up snow. But the more gentle part alternated between ice, dirt and mounds of dirt & rock which I cleverly (and frequently) explored with my hips. There appears to be no apparent lasting physical damage but clearly mind over matter does not always work.