It was the penultimate day of our holiday: I’d gone snowboarding in France with my little brother and what we lacked in skill we made up for in enthusiasm, catching the first ski lift in the morning and the last lift in the afternoon. That day, fresh snow had been falling and we were in high spirits. We stopped near the top of an off-piste section that went through forests. I’d done this route a few times before and, as I was faster and more experienced, I let my brother disappear into the trees ahead, figuring I would soon catch up.

I began to pick up speed when I was suddenly thrown off balance. I didn’t fall but I lost control of the board. I was unable to turn, instead going in a straight line, gathering speed. Just as I was regaining control, I smashed into the trunk of a large tree.

I have never felt such intense solidness: it was like hitting a concrete pillar. I didn’t lose consciousness but within a split second I was lying crumpled around the trunk. The pain was instantaneous and overwhelming, I knew pretty much immediately that my back was broken and quickly realised the situation could get very serious. I was off-piste, so nobody would be coming past. There was no phone signal. My brother knew I was on the mountain, but we often lost each other during our descents and would just meet at the bottom, so he might not worry for some time. Even if he did, he had no way of knowing where I was. It was snowing and cold. I reckoned if I waited, I would probably be rescued, eventually. But the chance of freezing to death before that happened was too high for me to risk staying put.

I tried to stand but collapsed and almost blacked out with pain before I got halfway up. Walking was not an option. Crawling was too slow and painful. I had another idea: I managed to get the board unclipped from my feet and manoeuvred it under my stomach so I was lying on it. I faced down the mountain and, using the board as a luge, I started to drag and slide my body down the steep, tree-lined slope. The incline was sharp but the snow was quite deep so I could use my arms to stop myself sliding out of control. I descended at a slow jogging pace, trying to slow myself as much as possible.

At one stage I lost control and slid down into a bunker, about 6ft deep. I came off the board and into the snow. I felt the coldness around my back and it temporarily eased the intense pain. I briefly thought of staying, there before a louder voice repeated, “No. I must get down.” I took a deep breath and pushed hard with my hands to get myself back on to my stomach. The sides were steep, almost impossible to slide up. I cried out in pain but didn’t make it. I tried again – this time, I took a deep breath and pushed hard and fast, trying to do it before my brain registered the pain. I succeeded. Once over I had to slide myself on to the board and pull myself up out of the bunker with my hands. It was agony. But I knew this was the only option. It took about an hour before I slid out on to a cross-country ski path and another hour before a skier found me and got help. The mountain rescue team came, with my brother arriving shortly afterwards. I couldn’t feel my hands or my toes from the cold, but the relief at knowing I was safe was immense.

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I was given morphine and a helicopter took me to hospital. Among other injuries I had shattered one of my vertebrae and there was considerable pressure on my spinal canal. I had spinal surgery, where the doctors inserted plates and screws. It became infected and the constant pain was agonising, but the physical discomfort was not as bad as the emotional distress of seeing the pain and worry I put my family through.

The recovery road was tough, but I was lucky. My family were incredible. From the amazing job my brother did in looking after me in a foreign country to my parents who put up with me immobile and frustrated in their home for months. Gradually, I was able to walk, then swim, then cycle and then to run. Eventually, I was back doing what I love most – running along mountain trails with my two brothers. I haven’t been back to the slopes yet but it might happen someday – I will, however, be sticking to the pisted areas.

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