I have emerged from a long winter of isolation. Two years of recovering from surgeries broke me in places, but where my body and psyche were shattered, I am stronger. Focused. Driven. I am stoked for the challenges that lie ahead. I am ready to take back my Wild Life.
For me, skiing symbolizes health, strength, and freedom after setbacks. I looked forward to hitting the slopes again.
I had hiked and biked to get back in shape after a Makoplasty partial knee replacement on January 5th, but my physical therapist instructed me to build strength in my muscles to stabilize the knee instead. I took a few weeks of Pilates and strengthening classes.
Were my muscles strong enough or would I have to ride back down on the chairlift?
I made it to the top! Now for the true test.
I would be skiing the heaviest and slushiest snow of the year. It would have been painful to ski with my old knee. How would my body handle it?
Have you noticed your trees, shrubs, and plants perking up after the long winter? Well, some of mine are really stupid.
See that crabapple on the right? It is showing superior intelligence.
Here in Boulder, the month of March is generally our snowiest preceding an April where buds burst into brilliant spring color. But March has been warm; warm like May warm. The weather has the first two letters right, but that’s all. It’s the kind of warm that has butterflies bursting out of chrysalises and Boulderites hitting trails in shorts and T-shirts. Grocery stores are sold out of burgers, hotdogs and buns. Okay. I made that up, but it could happen.Continue reading →
I never noticed how many u’s there are in Chautauqua. Huh.
Oh. Sorry. Hey! How are yah!
Danny and I hiked in a Boulder park where the foothills meet the Flatirons. No they aren’t in an aisle in Target. The Flatirons are flat (yep), rock formations like the underside of an iron. The snow melted in the strong Colorado sunshine and I hoped I wouldn’t go slip sliding away.
This was my first real hike in Boulder since surgeryand I avoided the mud and slippery slush covered trail, big time, skipping over to the grass when I could. My technique was far from the nimble mountain goat and more like someone afraid of stepping on a land mine.
I clowned around while other hikers gave me the hairy eyeball. I have no shame, you know and I thought one of the pictures would make a great new profile picture. Continue reading →
This photo was taken in Jackson Hole, Wyoming my senior year in college. Yep. That’s me with the bota bag. Remember those? My friend and I stayed with ski bums who worked on the mountain as ski hosts. Little did I know drinking while skiing could be a very bad idea. I would face surgery becoming even more bionic thirty years later.
After five months of ski dreams, Jonesing over videos, and reading about new mountain developments, it’s ski season. I wondered if I’d get my butt kicked by the mountain. I always plan to exercise every day, but sometimes life, NaNoWriMo, Thanksgiving, or a thousand other excuses get in the way.