THE PT CHRONICLES
PART 8
SKIS, BLOOD AND SHOCK
I’m still the Official PT for Cosmo magazine at this point and low and behold it pays off immediately. Within three months I get contacted by Becca who is taking a group of 20 Journalists to Banff, Canada to review the resort and they need a PT on the trip to train them throughout. TRX is PERFECT for Skiers. So, fee agreed, I go.
Back then, I wasn’t a hugely travelled individual. It ALWAYS used to show in my prep, my packing. I was useless. I’m going to ski. I’d never been before so I packed a few different pairs of bottoms, tops, jumpers and jackets. Not too bad but I felt lacklustre on the old kit side of things throughout that trip. It was fine and I nestled in nicely with the group of journos on the plane and things started great. Boring boring.
The structure of the trip was that each Journo would come and have their one TRX session with me to show how it synced beautifully with Skiing. All was good, I was impressing the whole bunch. Now being a stereotypical Welshman, to me, Skiing was clearly a posh knobheads holiday. I still lean to that prejudice because it’s expensive BUT bloody hell it’s fun when you get the hang of it. I was on the green run in Banff within 2 hours of learning. I wasn’t good but I was competent.
On the fourth day, I was to head up to the top of one of the mountains and film some skiing strengthening movements like squats, lunges, core stuff etc. On the third day, however, a spanner was thrown in the works.
On this third day, we were scheduled to take part in a fitness session run by the local PTs. JESUS. We turn up to a snow-covered American Football pitch and as we’re walking towards the pitch I see the trainers have set up cones and sled pulls. Original. I walk up to one of the sleds and my eyes widen with fear. The edges of this ankle-high sled we’re sharp enough to cut cheese.
“These are touch sharp no?” I enquire.
“No, they’ll never get near you because of the way the course is structured.” The trainer answered. I could honestly hear fate giggling a bit.
Anyway, we to split into teams and one at a time strap the harness onto our shoulders, we were to sprint with the sled behind us and once we reach the bottom cone let it arc around us and then run backwards. Genius stuff.
At this point, I’m still 26 and eager as hell to show off (yes, more than now). As they say GO, super Niko sets off at Bolt pace. I am crushing the desk-bound journalist I’m racing against. What a loser. I arc around the bottom cone and the sled is now in front of me as I sprint like a gazelle backwards. My ego,as per, already has the better of me. I’ve gone off too fast backwards and start to fall because the sled isn’t heavy enough. No way I’m going to look stupid so I engage in a Simone Biles-Esque backward roll. As I do, the sled catches me up and WHACK, the sharp edge hits me at speed right on the crown of my skull.
I hear the crowd of journos compose a collective “oooooooooooooofffff!” It must have looked painful. It fucking was!
I sat up touched my head and said;
“I’m ok!”
They all ran over to me and their faces said it all. I checked my head again and before my hand made contact with my head I could feel a warm liquid squirting up to meet my hand. Interesting. Blood was coming out like a geyser...
I was rushed to the hospital in the rented car. The Doc came in and said;
“Right, do you want to wait 45mins for the Anaesthesiologist or shall we get on with it?”
I elected to get on with it and he stapled my head closed. FUCK ME. Painful. I still have the scar. If you see me around, have a feel. Lumpy.
The fourth day arrived and I’m expected up on the mountain filming. Instead, I’m in bed shaking with a cold fever, puking, and feeling dizzy. I’m basically concussed and in shock. My Mum calls 8 times to check on me, Sophie is worried sick and I’m embarrassed as hell. Problem is I’m contracted. It’s void unless I get my ass up that mountain. So…I do. It’s a shambles. Try squatting and lunging after I’ve hit YOU in the head with a jagged sled. It ain’t appening bruvva!
I return to the UK having learnt to ski, trained journalists on TRX, stitches in my head and a mild concussion. Not a bad trip. I haven’t skied since.
That storm was getting closer…