Wow. I'm Upright.
I cannot believe that it has been 20 years since I last skied. I actually has to stop and think about it because it seems incomprehensible to me that so much time has passed in what feels like a blink of an eye. Twenty years ago this March, I blew my right anterior cruciate ligament on a soft, slushy spring green trail in New Hampshire. The jerk I was dating at the time, a big skier, was annoyed with me that I hurt myself. Needless to say, that relationship lasted another week or so but that is another story for a bottle of wine and a therapist in tow... Anyway, since this was 1992, there was no arthroscopic surgery. I had reconstructive surgery which included 6 inch scar down the front of my knee and 6 weeks in a leg brace. When I heard the diagnosis from my surgeon, I burst into tears! He had repaired my left ACL in 1988 (this time soccer) when that entailed two 12 inch scars down either side of my knee and 9 months in a leg brace from ankle to thigh. I was "lucky" that the surgery had evolved to be so much less evasive. Now, this procedure is day surgery with 2 small scope holes and you walk out with an ace bandage. Timing is everything. The day I blew my second knee was the last day I saw a ski slope. I vowed never again.
As the saying goes, never say never. My husband (clearly not the jerk from the above story but the jerk did made it possible for me to appreciate all the wonderful qualities he has) loves to ski. Now that my four boys are older, they like to ski too. I was content letting him take them sporadically over the last two years by himself. Now there are 4 old enough to ski and I had a choice: I could stay home and give in to the fear of injury or I could participate in a family activity that actually got us out of the house during the winter. I sucked it up and headed for the slopes. I went once last year and was terrified. I was so stiff, I looked like a cartoon character, a stick figure on skis. I took charge of the 4 year old, who was absolutely fearless, and together we fell up the tow rope and down the bunny trail. Yikes.
After a particularly good financial year this December, my husband proposed that we buy skis for the family and make skiing a regular winter activity for 2011-2012 season. Long pause from me...Okay, I agreed but was screaming WHY! in my head. After dropping an obscene amount of money for skis, bindings, boots, jackets, bags, gloves for 6 people and a transport carrier, I knew I was screwed. There was no way I was avoiding this. Off we headed for the smallest, most family friendly ski area around us- King Pine. I tried the tow line and the bunny hill again, this time with the whole family. I fell. I got up and I fell again. I was pissed. What the hell was I doing!?! I shot my husband a particularly dirty look and stormed into the lodge to fume, get warm and find some perspective.
I decided to take a ski lesson. I never took a ski lesson when I originally learned to ski. I was 22 years old, in top physical shape, cocky and fearless. In one season I went from falling in front of the lodge doors to bombing down blue trails with reckless abandon. I'm sure that the schnapps I slugged down every so often had something to do with my bravado. It was a shock to me that my knee gave out on such an easy slope on such a warm day after all the crazy skiing I had done. What I never learned about skiing was the basics. I only learned how to keep up with much faster, more experienced skiers. I needed to start over and gain some confidence.
My first ski instructor was a lovely, fit women in her late 50s. After hearing my tale of woe, she was very attentive to my my fears and my knees. She started me on a bunny slope, but that lasted one run. She told me my muscles clearly remembered how to ski, I just needed to loosen up and gain some confidence. It was much easier without kids to worry about and a husband to impress. After our first run down the easiest trail, she asked me if I practiced yoga. I was surprised by the question. It has been 9 months since I started Bikram Yoga. She told me that yoga and skiing go well together and it was easier to give instructions about body position and balance to a yoga practitioner. I then had a real "Aha" moment.
I have been practicing yoga with a variety of expectations, not the least of which hoping that the stillness between the postures will bring to a place where I can find stillness and peace when dealing with my children. Nothing like a screaming household full of boys to bring my blood to a rapid boil. I have progressed to competence in the physical postures. The practice has greatly strengthened and healed my knees. That is easy to see. The determination, patience and stillness is virtually impossible to even see as the practice progresses. Despite not seeing or it or noticing it, I have gained a great deal of mental clarity through my yoga. The fact that I was willing to take on something that terrified me is in part due to my yoga practice. The fact that I could concentrate so deeply and feel what my body was doing as it was doing it was entirely due to my yoga practice. The confidence I felt in my body and trusting that it would tell me when enough was enough was also due to yoga. All the stillness between the postures was working its magic. I am able to focus and concentrate with intensity. It was the first time I both respected my body and trusted it entirely. That is quite a revelation at 43. What was even more impressive was the understanding that the yoga is helping me focus on myself. This is what I need to do to get through the tough days with the kids. I realized that yoga isn't a magic bullet to conjure up instant peace, it is a long process of taking care of one's self first so the rough patches are easier to take. I was looking for the magic bullet when all I needed to do was understand that, like in an airplane, I just needed to put on my own oxygen mask before helping my loved one with theirs.
The rest of the ski story is in the making. I am now a "novice" skier who can ease down a gentle slope while only occasionally wobbling and even less often falling. As in most things, I have a sense of humor about the falling part. Don't get me wrong, falling totally sucks, but I have to laugh. I am 43 years old and have spent too much of my time and energy over the years worrying about looking "cool," "sophisticated" and "in control." It's impossible to be any of those things while toddlers swoosh by a stiff and wobbly me with complete confidence on the bunny slope. I'm sure the wisdom that comes with age has something to do with this change in attitude, but I know that the yoga has something to do with it as well. The yoga taught me that it is never about competing with others, only yourself. There is only so much I can do on the slopes right now and I can bitch about it and feel self conscious or I can enjoy it. For a change, I have chosen the later, though so much more witty wisecracks and great one-liners come from the former.
Ski lessons at 43 have taught me that it is really never to late to learn something new. I have learned that there is no such thing as looking foolish while trying because the alternative is to sit on the sidelines and let life pass by. I learned that I am a better with time to myself to process new things and situations than I am while simultaneously being a mother. Maybe it is because I don't have to worry about anyone else or maybe because I don't need to be a control freak or a some combination of the two. Ski lessons at 43 have taught me that I need to take care of myself first before I can take care of anyone else without resentment. I have also learned that the fear of falling is much worse than the fall itself. I guess I got my money's worth from those lessons after all!
So far, so good. Happy skiing.
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