Life and Skiing

As I enter something like my 8th season of skiing, I am finding that each day out on snow is better than the last! This is a great feeling. On my most recent day at Squaw I had a private lesson with someone recommended to me by a good friend. It was the most amazing lesson I've ever had. To label this woman an expert is an understatement, more like an expert among experts. And just as you would hope, I learned in a way that surpasses any other prior experience. I skied with more confidence and grace.....so much so that certain moments were sublime. Where I normally might have fretted over bumpy snow or conditions, I tilted and rolled into carves across whatever was ahead...and it worked so easily!!!

 While I was certainly happy with the changes I was experiencing, I was at the same time sad. It was approximately in my third season of skiing that I started to work with a private instructor and we skied together for about 5 seasons. I started from Level 1 I suppose and went to the edge of where I am now...perhaps Level 6...just on the outskirts of being an advanced skier.

 In the season that I started working with him, I also took my first women's clinic and generally gave myself permission to begin spending more money to learn to ski....because I had been diagnosed with Parkinson's Disease and I didn't know just how long I would have to ski. Whatever time I had, I wanted to maximize my use of it.

 Over the course of 5 seasons, I grew very strongly attached to my instructor. He was a mentor, a highly empathetic listener and I had a lot to talk about. He is a very kind person, a husband and father to two children. To say I thought of him as a good friend would be an understatement. More like, I wanted him to be present at my death, to be one of my pall bearers.

 For some reason, he felt that would be cheating on his wife and that he could not go on as my coach. He felt that he could not meet my needs fully and so we stopped working together. For me, though younger, he was very much of a father figure. As someone who came from a chaotic childhood, losing this man as a mentor/friend was very painful. And yet, one cannot force others to be something they don't want to be.

 I stumbled across a poem I had written for my husband and it stood out all the more for me. I love my husband very much and I am loved in return. And although the future could hold some scary prospects, he stands firmly by my side. Here is the poem:


 Strength

 He is the mountain around which my heart grows,
 the man who swallows tears,
 because he knows

 I slowly pass through white out.
 Before his eyes,
parts of me begin to fade.

There is no scream loud enough
to wake the gods,
to stop the blizzard in its tracks.

And yet, he smiles.
He does not run; he does not hide.
He walks beside me, each caress a shield
against the never ending storm.