I Just Wanna Celebrate
In 2005, my family moved to Utah. My ex-husband encouraged me to move to Utah by saying, “You can ski all the time there. You will love it.” He was right. The first winter in Utah, I would drop my children off at school and head straight for the mountain. My normal winter doldrums were chased away by the wonder of ski slopes. There were endless sunny days with reflections of glistening icicles against the boundless blue sky. Ski resorts advertised that once you turned 70, you could ski for $10 for the season. As the years went on, that changed to 80 years old. Still, I couldn’t wait until my turn came, and I could ski day after day for just $10 a season. I figured once I reached that age, I would get a pass at more than one resort. As the years went on, my skiing continued. I used to get excited as early as Halloween. Some years when the snow fall started early, we actually would ski the day after Thanksgiving. This year, I didn’t start skiing until a couple of weeks ago. The last few years, I’ve been taking That One Guy (TOG) skiing for his birthday. This year was no different. The first day of skiing was the TOG birthday celebration.
The day I started my season this year, I felt super anxious about going skiing. Last year, I struggled from sciatica, and I had to cut my ski season short. Since then, I’ve diminished my pain issues with Turmeric, but I was still apprehensive that skiing might hurt. While I thought I was ready for skiing, I wasn’t. When the weather report came out, it looked like our ski day was going to be very cold. I reached out to TOG and informed him that the day was expected to be around 8º Fahrenheit. “No problem,” he told me. So I gathered up all my cold weather gear, including hand warmers and a neck warmer, and braced myself for our ski day.
The morning of the ski day, we left on time. The day was shaping up to be beautiful, though quite cold. I figured, at least the sun would warm us. About 15 minutes down the road, TOG’s car broke down. It seemed the water pump broke. Maybe all of my anxiety about going skiing had created karma that would take us back home? No such luck. I own a car. We went back home and switched cars. Then I started to have anxiety about parking. Would there be parking when we finally got to the ski resort? Would I have to drop TOG and the ski gear at the lodge and park far away? Within an hour, we had made it to the ski resort and had parked. We weren’t even very far from the entrance to the resort.
The first order of business was to get our ski boots on. If you know anything about ski boots, you know that they aren’t comfortable. I’ve gone snowboarding once. While I didn’t enjoy snowboarding, I loved the cozy feeling of snowboarding boots. This sensation is not the feeling one gets from ski boots. Ski boots are hard, plastic, and unforgiving. The goal of ski boats is to hold your feet solidly in place and keep them safe. My ski gear is 15 years old. My feet have changed in the past 15 years. Read my blog about my hiking boots (Boots) to learn more about my changing feet. Still, I stuffed my almost-60-year-old feet into boots from my 45-year old-days. It’s a painful fight. The boots don’t feel comfortable. I reasoned with myself that my feet would feel better once I started moving. I felt like the Michelin Man in my too-tight boots and my endless layers of clothing designed to keep me warm.
TOG and I headed out to the lift. Up we traveled and he remarked, “What a beautiful day!” It truly was. The sun was shining, the snow was pristine, and the mountain looked lovely. To me, some of the best beauty can be found riding the lift up to the top of the mountain. When we got to the top, we dismounted, and we started to go down our first runs. I always start my season on beginner runs. I want to get my ski legs on, get my confidence up, and then I can move on. Only that didn’t happen this time.
I didn’t feel very confident this morning. I felt more like a newborn foal or what I think a newborn foal must feel like. My legs were wobbly. I felt skittish and uncomfortable. As I sped up, I felt like I was losing control. I felt grateful when I got to the bottom of the mountain and I was able to get on the ski lift again.
When I got on the ski lift the second time, my mind went to all the feelings that were going through my head and my body. I thought about writing this blog post. I thought about how different I was feeling compared to the joy I was expecting skiing to bring me. I thought and thought, and…I forgot to think about getting off the ski lift! When we got to the top, I didn’t prepare to dismount. Suddenly it was time to get off the lift, and I jumped off. Normally, I am used to feeling the snow slide under my skis. This time, there was only air. I was too late. I fell off the lift. How humiliating! I fell so far, my skis fell off! This is a big deal! Bindings are set to release the skis when there is a big impact. So, there was a big impact!
I crumpled in the snow at the top of the lift. My body was relatively unharmed. The lift operator had to turn off the lift. Everyone riding had to wait. The lift operator came out and checked on me. TOG skied over to check on me. I was so embarrassed. I just wanted to roll up like a little dirt bug and hide in the snow. But I had to get up and out of the way. I didn’t really feel any pain, probably because it was so cold and I was so embarrassed. I quickly put my skis back on and started to ski away.
If I was skittish about skiing before, now I was terrified. I was scared I would screw up. I was nervous about going quickly. I was trying to remember all the tips and tricks I had learned during ski lessons over the past 17 years. Flipping through all of those details in my head made skiing more of a chore than a pleasure. I tried to keep my shoulders from hunching forward and relax my legs, but I was struggling.
TOG and I did a few more runs, and then we went to lunch. When we handed the doorman our IDs at the restaurant/bar, my hand was shaking. I have a tremor, but now it is was in overdrive. Clearly, my nerves were rattled. As we sat down, I looked around at all the other skiers and snowboarders. Here were all these smiling and laughing faces, enjoying their day on the mountain. There I was, terrified that after lunch, I was going to go back to the ski lift. Was I going to enjoy the rest of my runs? Was anyone else in this restaurant feeling this much anxiety? Was anyone else in this restaurant feeling ANY anxiety? Why am I skiing if it makes me feel this anxious and I have this much body shame?
Body shame: There I said it. I was feeling uncomfortable in my body as I came down the mountain. I was feeling uncomfortable that my body wasn’t doing what I expected it to do. Why wasn’t my body moving like I expected it to? Was I too…fat? Honestly, that was the first thought that came to mind. But I had been down that road so many times before. This time I wasn’t going to let that shitstorm take me. I’d been skiing for 15 of the last 17 years. My body size wasn’t going to have anything to do with it. Maybe it was…time. When I started skiing here I was not quite 43. Now, I’m not quite 60. While I think I’m in the same body, I’m not. Maybe my body just doesn’t like skiing as much as it used to. Can I accept that? Can I accept that I can change and my body can change?
After lunch, TOG and I went back on the lift. We went down the beginner run again. This time, the pain was excruciating. I just couldn’t do any more skiing that day. I told TOG that I was done, but he could continue to ski if he wanted to. I went and sat in the outdoor cafe where I could watch the other skiers. I thought about my ski history. I thought about how I was the first skier in my family. I thought about the years of great skiing that my body had given me. Over the loudspeaker of the cafe, the music blared. “I just want to celebrate another day of living!” the singer belted. Isn’t that how I want to feel? Rather than beat myself up for not having a good ski day, don’t I want to be grateful for all that I can do?
Because of my sciatica, I did not buy a ski pass for the season this year. I was worried that I wouldn’t make use of it. Last year I bought a ski pass, but with the sciatica, I ended up only skiing 3 times. Still, I was feeling better this season after finding the Turmeric, so I decided to buy 5 passes to 1 resort. I can share these passes (with TOG, or anyone else), or ski with them myself. So now I am wondering, did I just have a bad ski day and I can try to use one of the passes again? The cost is sunk whether I ski or not. I can go up on the mountain and just ski one run and come home if I’d like. The cost will be the same. Another friend has offered to ski with me. So perhaps I shall try again. Reminding myself that it’s okay if my body has changed, and it’s okay if skiing is not one of the reasons I live in Utah anymore. I still get to live here, and I get to celebrate another day of living.
