I always like doing things with my two sons, and sledding is no exception. We enjoy gliding down the hill on our sleds and tubes on a crisp, cold day; flying down the slope alone, or holding hands tightly to form a chain.
One particular day, our favourite hill was an ice ball—perfect for fast, long rides. The double dip toward the bottom of the hill was now two rock-hard troughs of ice. As I had many times, I headed right for the dips with great expectation — and the extra speed that the ice and my weight afforded.
As I came out of the first dip, I really took off. "You got good air, Dad," my sons would tell me later. My sled did not travel the same path as my body, however, and I landed with full force on my hip on the rock-hard, icy edge of the second trough.
