By Susan Sims

It had been more than thirty years since I last skied. Thirty years. That’s a long time for skis to gather dust, memories to fade, and fears to creep in. But when my husband and I planned our winter getaway to Park City, Utah, I knew it was time to dust off my ski gear—or rather, let Deer Valley provide new rentals for both of us—and rediscover what I loved so much about gliding down snow-covered slopes. What followed was nothing short of magical: a perfect bluebird day, exceptional instruction, snowy wonderlands, and a renewed passion for skiing—all without breaking a hip.

First Day Nerves and Private Lessons

We started our adventure with a private, half-day ski lesson, tailored for two “returning skiers” who might also be considered slightly over-cautious. Deer Valley is famous for its exceptional ski school, and our 70-year-old instructor , Michael, immediately made us feel at ease. I have to admit, the first thing I noticed—and feared—was my balance. Thirty years is a long gap, and I wondered if my muscles remembered anything at all.

To make matters even more exciting (or terrifying), this was the first time I ever wore a ski helmet. As I adjusted the snug strap, I felt a tiny thrill of both safety and novelty. And then there were the skis. Deer Valley provided rentals, and for me, that meant the first experience on short, easier-turning skis. Suddenly, the idea of making turns didn’t feel impossible. I started to remember, slowly but surely, why I had fallen in love with skiing in the first place: the sheer freedom, the crisp mountain air filling my lungs, and the exhilaration of moving with the snow beneath me.

Michael guided us patiently, focusing on posture, turning, and controlling our speed. I kept reminding myself: relax, breathe, enjoy, don’t fall. And the lesson worked. By mid-morning, I was turning with confidence, feeling the skis beneath me, and laughing with joy—glad I hadn’t broken a hip in the process. My husband, too, found his rhythm, and together we carved gentle arcs down beautifully groomed trails, soaking in the panoramic mountain views.

Me and ski instructor Michael

The weather was perfection itself: a deep, crisp blue sky stretching endlessly above snow-covered peaks. Sunlight sparkled on the powdery trails, glinting off icy branches and casting shadows across the slopes. I remembered exactly why I had loved skiing in my youth. The sensation of moving freely, of controlling my path while gliding over glistening snow, felt like coming home after decades away.

Skiing after three decades was both nostalgic and exhilarating. The short skis, the helmet, and the private lesson all contributed to a safe, confidence-building reintroduction. More than anything, I was reminded of why skiing had captured my heart in the first place: the joy of movement, the beauty of winter landscapes, and the sense of freedom it brings.

By the time we left, I felt rejuvenated, joyful, and grateful. Skiing had given me a renewed sense of adventure, reminding me that it’s never too late to embrace old passions, try new things, and make memories that last a lifetime. Thirty years away, and I left knowing one thing: I will be back.

Susan Sims publishes FIDO Friendly, the Travel  Lifestyle Magazine for you and your dog. Along with her husband Greg and dog Honey, she travels across America sniffing out properties for purpose of review. She started skiing in high school in 1968.

• Author
• Recent Posts

Guest Contributor

With permission, we share articles from our friends, colleagues, and readers.

Latest posts by Guest Contributor (see all)

• Rediscovering My Ski Groove at Deer Valley - March 5, 2026
• Turns Through Time – A Ski Story Spanning 90 Years - February 19, 2026
• In the Shadow of the Matterhorn - February 19, 2026