Next to true sportsmanship, my other passion is people watching on the ski hills. Trends have changed since the 90's when bright neon prints were seen everywhere on the mountains. Then, in the new millennium the clothes became oversized and hanging off of skiers and snowboarders alike. Now the clothes are more refined and dare I say even chic.
I am slow as a sloth, ripping up the green runs and regularly have six year olds yelling at me to get out of their way. These four foot skiers publicly shaming me in front of their peers. Despite this, I still have a smile on my face. I love being outdoors, trying new trails and meeting wonderful people in the outdoor community.
During the wait, I had probably asked my coach, Toben, about five times what I should do about the speed. He shrugged, "You'll just have to feel this one, Kaya." Well, I felt it. The flow was there. I wasn't competing for anything or anyone but myself and instead of having the weight of the world on my shoulders, I was carrying everyone along for the ride.
I continue to be quite content to travel on my own to a town a few hours away or on a long flight around the world. It is always invigorating for me to venture out solo. Now instead of others being shocked by my willingness to travel on my own, there is a look of sympathy when I share with them that I will be going on vacation by myself. I can imagine the thoughts running through their head, "Why would a woman in her early 40s be traveling on her own? Is she newly divorced? She must be lonely."
At the beginning of my rehabilitation process, I had to find various ways to comfort myself. If the knee was or wasn't going to get better in time for the Olympics, at least I would know it much sooner than later. It was so easy to get discouraged, to give up, to wonder why I would return to skiing after it took so much from me already. So I made myself focus on what mattered.
For decades, I avoided skis, until last month when I figured I'd go for it, believing I had matured enough to avoid any reckless danger. Worst-case scenario? I'd fall a few times on a bunny hill and have a silly, self-deprecating travel article to share with you. Instead, this story is about the thrill of victory.
It was a busy week. We learned some lessons about text messages in my family, watched an eight year old give a great pep talk that would inspire anyone, learned that Conrad Black is back, contemplated the make-versus-buy Valentine's Day card dilemma and we read in horror about babies getting tattoos.