Enjoying...
....I can sometimes do this - enjoying the things around me.
I planned to go skiing before it started snowing, and was out on the slopes with newly waxed boards before 6pm. It was glorious.
There's no denying that being in a good frame of mind lets me enjoy these things more. With the sadness of yesterday shaken off a bit, I could marvel at how the mountain was now covered with snow that didn't punish my knees today. I was moving through the snow rather than skittering over the top of it clinging for balance with edges cutting for purchase.
As I said to someone on the lift, the snow was baby-bear perfect. Not the hard board pack or heavy, granular powder, but drifts of snow forming bumps I had to navigate. I could feel the way my skis respond and move, the lean, the push - all doing what I wanted, making me turn and push in the direction I wanted to go. Every run was open to me, nothing seemed difficult.
At one point, i got stuck midway up the lift and sat there for a good four or five minutes. When you're sitting still, you have time to realize how far above the ground you are, and my stomach wanted to get queasy on me. Luckily, we soon started moving again and I could start the slow trip down the mountain. By the time I reached the bottom, the lift was being adjusted in some way, and then both lifts weren't carrying people. But instead of getting upset, I joined the long line on the bunny slopes. At the top, finally, I took a slow trip down and taught myself to be comfortable with turning in circles. Forward, backward, back again - I made myself just little bit dizzy with all the turns. It felt like so much fun.
When I finally got back to the "real" lift and it was going again, I realized I had no idea how many times I'd been down the hill, and didn't care. Toward the end, I caught one of the many bumps that were springing up and couldn't recover. My spectacular (relatively speaking) wipeout had me sideways and my left shoulder was wrenched. I know you're supposed to *not* try and put your arms out, but it's so damned instinctual. I almost worried I'd popped the silly thing out of its socket, but everything else was just fine - my skis didn't even pop loose. I made a point of moving my arm a lot as I went down the hill in hopes it wouldn't stiffen up. Now, it's okay, but I can feel it when I lift my arm - it's sore right over the top of the shoulder, but I'll survive.
I finally acknowledged the burning and wobbliness in my thighs after three plus hours. I went in, took off the ski boots, drank a ton of water and stretched. After a leisurely drive home (patches of slippery made me cautious), I changed and relaxed with the dogs.
I wish I could have more days where I realize how good it can be. Days where I pat myself on the back mentally and acknowledge that I'm doing things to live life well after all the crap that's come before. Times where I realize things about how I've been living and what I've been doing to avoid re-entry into the world of people and relationships. Finding the courage to move past the fear.
Skiing is not only strengthening my body, it's healing my spirit and giving me confidence. I remember how my body responds to hard work and the way it finds the sweet spot almost instinctively. Maybe I'm not as huge of a klutz as I always was told after all.
I can do this.
I planned to go skiing before it started snowing, and was out on the slopes with newly waxed boards before 6pm. It was glorious.
There's no denying that being in a good frame of mind lets me enjoy these things more. With the sadness of yesterday shaken off a bit, I could marvel at how the mountain was now covered with snow that didn't punish my knees today. I was moving through the snow rather than skittering over the top of it clinging for balance with edges cutting for purchase.
As I said to someone on the lift, the snow was baby-bear perfect. Not the hard board pack or heavy, granular powder, but drifts of snow forming bumps I had to navigate. I could feel the way my skis respond and move, the lean, the push - all doing what I wanted, making me turn and push in the direction I wanted to go. Every run was open to me, nothing seemed difficult.
At one point, i got stuck midway up the lift and sat there for a good four or five minutes. When you're sitting still, you have time to realize how far above the ground you are, and my stomach wanted to get queasy on me. Luckily, we soon started moving again and I could start the slow trip down the mountain. By the time I reached the bottom, the lift was being adjusted in some way, and then both lifts weren't carrying people. But instead of getting upset, I joined the long line on the bunny slopes. At the top, finally, I took a slow trip down and taught myself to be comfortable with turning in circles. Forward, backward, back again - I made myself just little bit dizzy with all the turns. It felt like so much fun.
When I finally got back to the "real" lift and it was going again, I realized I had no idea how many times I'd been down the hill, and didn't care. Toward the end, I caught one of the many bumps that were springing up and couldn't recover. My spectacular (relatively speaking) wipeout had me sideways and my left shoulder was wrenched. I know you're supposed to *not* try and put your arms out, but it's so damned instinctual. I almost worried I'd popped the silly thing out of its socket, but everything else was just fine - my skis didn't even pop loose. I made a point of moving my arm a lot as I went down the hill in hopes it wouldn't stiffen up. Now, it's okay, but I can feel it when I lift my arm - it's sore right over the top of the shoulder, but I'll survive.
I finally acknowledged the burning and wobbliness in my thighs after three plus hours. I went in, took off the ski boots, drank a ton of water and stretched. After a leisurely drive home (patches of slippery made me cautious), I changed and relaxed with the dogs.
I wish I could have more days where I realize how good it can be. Days where I pat myself on the back mentally and acknowledge that I'm doing things to live life well after all the crap that's come before. Times where I realize things about how I've been living and what I've been doing to avoid re-entry into the world of people and relationships. Finding the courage to move past the fear.
Skiing is not only strengthening my body, it's healing my spirit and giving me confidence. I remember how my body responds to hard work and the way it finds the sweet spot almost instinctively. Maybe I'm not as huge of a klutz as I always was told after all.
I can do this.