gardenmary
Ski Diva Extraordinaire
So, I've been using my "crazy schedule" as an excuse to not go skiing. (HERESY!!!!)
But this past year has been one that has taken a pretty heavy toll on my health. I'm 56 years old. I'm now 5.5 years out from my breast cancer diagnosis, and 5 years out from my radiation treatment (I am now 5 years cancer free). That treatment was followed with a hormone-suppressing drug called Tamoxifen - and I had just about every single side effect one can have with the vile, evil stuff. I was supposed to take it for 5-10 YEARS.
Long story short - I lost muscle mass, strength, stamina, and I gained weight - even though I was eating healthy (not hard to do in Berkeley!), walking 3-5 days a week on the walk path behind the apartments in Berkeley, and schlepping up and down the formidable hill at seminary. Didn't do a damn bit of good because of the Tamoxifen. (I'm off it now, after my oncologist agreed it was worse than the disease, and already things are getting better.)
Anyway, I've been very hesitant to go skiing. I won't ski as well, I've told myself. I won't look decent, I'm overweight. I don't fit the "ski bunny" mold, even in anyone's twisted reality. And the lack of strength will probably mean that I manage to get hurt.
But one of my favorite authors, Anne Lamott, posted something last week that basically reminded me "if not now, WHEN???" And my good friend @mustski nudged me a little more. So - as my late husband used to say - I put everything in the "what the hell" department and pulled out the ski clothes.
OMG. They fit.
I put on the boots. They felt good.
I texted @mustski and told her I'd meet her today at a local mom-and-pop ski area called Snow Valley. I have skied with her and her family for 6 years now and they have always been the most welcoming and supportive folks.
I waxed my skis - always the best Zen activity - and set the alarm for zero-dark-thirty. (No, seriously, 2 hours before sunrise!)
When I got there, I got ready and got my ticket (half off! thanks SnowJam!) and headed up to the beginner bunny slope lift. (Cue the apprehensive music...) Now it's do or die. Off the chair lift.....and initiated the first turn.
You know that thing called muscle memory?
IT'S A THING. SERIOUSLY. IT'S A REAL THING.
I was fully expecting to get hauled down the mountain on a sled by patrol. But all those incredible lessons (thanks Stew Marsh!!!) have lodged deep in my physical self and it all kicked in. Within an hour I was skiing beyond ANYTHING I thought I'd be capable of on a first day with ZERO preparation.
My friend and her family are great skiers and that is one of the best ways to up your game - ski with good skiers. We had a fantastic long morning of run after run on all the open terrain.
Moral of the story? Don't underestimate yourself. Who the heck CARES what you look like. Get out there and have an exhilarating, empowering day. Believe in yourself! You can do it!
Hoping the weather is favorable for a repeat next week!
PS - the other moral of the story is if your doctor tells you to take Tamoxifen, tell them to go shinny up a tree. Worst.Drug.Ever.
But this past year has been one that has taken a pretty heavy toll on my health. I'm 56 years old. I'm now 5.5 years out from my breast cancer diagnosis, and 5 years out from my radiation treatment (I am now 5 years cancer free). That treatment was followed with a hormone-suppressing drug called Tamoxifen - and I had just about every single side effect one can have with the vile, evil stuff. I was supposed to take it for 5-10 YEARS.
Long story short - I lost muscle mass, strength, stamina, and I gained weight - even though I was eating healthy (not hard to do in Berkeley!), walking 3-5 days a week on the walk path behind the apartments in Berkeley, and schlepping up and down the formidable hill at seminary. Didn't do a damn bit of good because of the Tamoxifen. (I'm off it now, after my oncologist agreed it was worse than the disease, and already things are getting better.)
Anyway, I've been very hesitant to go skiing. I won't ski as well, I've told myself. I won't look decent, I'm overweight. I don't fit the "ski bunny" mold, even in anyone's twisted reality. And the lack of strength will probably mean that I manage to get hurt.
But one of my favorite authors, Anne Lamott, posted something last week that basically reminded me "if not now, WHEN???" And my good friend @mustski nudged me a little more. So - as my late husband used to say - I put everything in the "what the hell" department and pulled out the ski clothes.
OMG. They fit.
I put on the boots. They felt good.
I texted @mustski and told her I'd meet her today at a local mom-and-pop ski area called Snow Valley. I have skied with her and her family for 6 years now and they have always been the most welcoming and supportive folks.
I waxed my skis - always the best Zen activity - and set the alarm for zero-dark-thirty. (No, seriously, 2 hours before sunrise!)
When I got there, I got ready and got my ticket (half off! thanks SnowJam!) and headed up to the beginner bunny slope lift. (Cue the apprehensive music...) Now it's do or die. Off the chair lift.....and initiated the first turn.
You know that thing called muscle memory?
IT'S A THING. SERIOUSLY. IT'S A REAL THING.
I was fully expecting to get hauled down the mountain on a sled by patrol. But all those incredible lessons (thanks Stew Marsh!!!) have lodged deep in my physical self and it all kicked in. Within an hour I was skiing beyond ANYTHING I thought I'd be capable of on a first day with ZERO preparation.
My friend and her family are great skiers and that is one of the best ways to up your game - ski with good skiers. We had a fantastic long morning of run after run on all the open terrain.
Moral of the story? Don't underestimate yourself. Who the heck CARES what you look like. Get out there and have an exhilarating, empowering day. Believe in yourself! You can do it!
Hoping the weather is favorable for a repeat next week!
PS - the other moral of the story is if your doctor tells you to take Tamoxifen, tell them to go shinny up a tree. Worst.Drug.Ever.