Dear Ms. Vonn,
We, the 206 occasionally contiguous bones that make up your skeletal system, are typing this letter out of grave concern for our collective well-being.
Clearly, this is an inopportune moment for us, the steadfast, hushed, and calcium-rich framework, to lodge a complaint with Corporate, what with the season just wrapping up and us just having clinched a world championship聽downhill bronze鈥攖he oldest bones to have ever done so. But seeing as we鈥檙e still in recovery from a that left one of our members literally in pieces (poor Right Humerus), to bite our tongue now would only invite more calamity (no disrespect to you, Lower Mandible). The Lindsey that the public sees might be all flowing hair, alabaster teeth, and blushed cheeks, but the inner Lindsey is hurting.
Do you remember the first time we were , or has all that positive mental attitude training filtered it from the gray matter Cranium so lovingly entombs? A reminder: The year was 2006, and you were piloting us over an Italian downhill course. Some muscular twitch misfired鈥攖he flesh is weak鈥攁nd there we were with both femurs spreading into a 55 mph split. For a fraction of a second, the world鈥攁nd our Pelvic Girdle team鈥攖hought we鈥檇 be drawn and quartered, but much to the dismay of the Lumbar Vertebrae, Os Coxae, and the easily bruised Coccyx, you managed to return the leg systems to parallel before sailing into the air鈥攁nd dropping 15 feet before landing onto your lower back. Cue the chopper. In the ER, you said the impact was the worst pain you鈥檇 ever experienced. Ah, youth. The next day, bruised to the bone, you still finished eighth in the downhill at the Torino Games.
It was a scary moment to be sure, but did we call a press conference to air our grievances? Of course not. We exist to support ourselves. As do our longstanding and much abused allies, the Ligaments. But , and now a with what looks and feels to be fucking titanium lag bolts, it鈥檚 time for some tough talk. Our apologies if it cuts too close to the bone. (Such an unpleasant idiom.)
Where would you be without us? Despite the fracture, and the world discounting your chances, you certainly wouldn鈥檛 have been in the race for a record 21st World Cup season title鈥攁 ninth downhill crystal globe that you鈥檒l surely contend for next winter. Muscle strength is nice, but as any first-year ski coach would say, success in downhill and super-G is all about 鈥渟tacking the bones.鈥 When you come into a 60 mph off-camber turn carrying two or three Gs, it鈥檚 not the prerace visualization that鈥檚 keeping the collective us from folding. It鈥檚 the ladder of bones鈥攕talwarts all, from the Metatarsals, through the Femurs, the Hips, and up to the Spine鈥攖hat staves off total collapse.
Not to self-promote, but ours is a winning skeleton. We鈥檙e big-boned, and you embrace it. That鈥檚 why you can flex a stiffer, faster men鈥檚 ski instead of skittering around on noodles. And, really, how would you look in that black Armani dress without us putting everything in its place? No bones means no records, no elbowing with celebrities, no fanboys.
Funny thing is, we have no demands. In fact, we want only to say: don鈥檛 stop. We love speed, too. We just ask that you think of us once in awhile. By all means, hang us out there in races. Just know that in , it鈥檚 cool to scrub a turn in a training run every now and then. Stay intact. Fight another day. That B-net fencing hurts.
But not as much as losing.
With love,
Your Skeletal System