Most people aren't lucky enough to know their last time. We'll all have a last hike, camping trip, putting a kid to bed, etc.
For me though, a few years back I was snowboarding the last run of the day on a relatively basic path. I caught an edge and landed on an exposed tree trunk that had been broken off (so basically a massive spike sticking out of the snow).
It caught me in the fabric of my armpit, so I was sorta suspended by my coat, a foot off the ground. The humour of it was not lost on me–I was like a turtle flipped upside down as I tried to surgically dislodge myself from the trunk. By the time I got going again it dawned on me that I was probably 6" from having a wooden spike driven through my throat.
So I leisurely enjoyed the last snowboard run of my life down to the parking lot. It was nice.
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