I admit it. I was one of those people. For a looong time. I was one of those people who bought into the counter-culture of despising Valentine's Day because it made me embarrassingly aware of just how single I was. Or if I wasn't single in the month of February, I had such secretly high expectations that something, anything, romantic was going to happen to me on that day that I would without a doubt be left feeling disappointed and bitter. Bitter if I'm single, bitter if I'm not. I tried the whole "ignoring Valentine's Day" thing for a while, and that didn't really work either. But then something happened. Well, a series of somethings really, that changed my whole attitude.
In a nut shell, my current take on Valentine's Day is this: how could I not love a day that celebrates love!? Because of some crappy things I have been through, I have realized that LOVE comes in all shapes and sizes, and doesn't necessarily have to include another person but should absolutely always include yourself. The day I changed my mindset about this most controversial of holidays, I decided that I didn't actually have to have "someone" in my life to love me to be able to love things myself. And I didn't have to be resentful of all the ladies getting teddy bears and chocolates from their male counterparts because, well, I had some pretty great things in my life to be grateful for, and none of them were stuffed with synthetic fibers and had buttons for eyes. So instead of allowing any bitterness, disappointment, or negativity to infiltrate my day, a couple of years ago I decided to celebrate all of the things I love in life.
That morning I took my dog for a walk downtown. I carried a book with me, and stopped for tea at my favorite little coffee shop. Then I went out and rode my horse. Then I drove myself up to the ski hill, got a half day in on the slopes, came back to town and cooked a steak and potato dinner for one of my favorite friends, complimented by a fabulous bottle of wine. The point is, I did not do one thing all day that I didn't love, and I did it with and for the people and things I love in my life. So what if the love in your life is an overly hairy border collie, or the fresh mountain air, or your sweet skis, or a good bottle of wine, or your best friend. The point is, there is a lot to love about life. The point is, society sets aside a day for us to celebrate love! The point is, we should find something we love and celebrate it! And we should do it more often than every February 14th. Halmark cards and chocolates be damned.
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
If you know us, you might know that the title for this blog is a merge of our two loves - those of backcountry skiing and horseback riding. To clarify, Mike loves skiing more than anything in this world (except maybe the three most important women in his life! Ha!) and there is nowhere I would rather be than on the back of a horse. Until recently, our two great loves existed separate and apart from each other. And while it will probably take me several more years of begging and bribing to get Mike on a horse, he recently succeeded in getting me to ski up a mountain. Well, almost.
Two years ago, when I tore my ACL and hamstring, my doctor suggested I take up backcountry skiing as an alternative to sitting on a ski lift and letting my muscles get all cold and tight and then trying to push them to perform. Apparently my muscles don't enjoy that, and I could very well end up re-injuring myself. No bueno. So finally, late 2011, we purchased me a lovely backcountry skiing set up so I could start enjoying the vast skiing goldmine that is Montana. New Year's Day 2012 was my first opportunity to enjoy my new hobby.
Mike woke me up at o' dark thirty (that falls somewhere in between 4 and 6 am) so we could suit up and make the drive from Helena up to the family cabin in Lincoln, where we would rendezvous with some friends and head up to Stonewall Creek, where we would get our ski on. After a short lesson in gear and a few words of encouragement, we were off up the skin track. For anyone in moderate to crappy physical condition, like myself, I would like to give the following advice: don't decide to take up backcountry skiing, buy a whole new set-up (especially boots), and then ambitiously try to skin several miles in to and subsequently up a mountain on your very first ski day of the season. And especially don't push yourself past the point when you start to question whether or not you will be able to make it out on your own. Long story short, my first day of skiing this year did not go great. Blood, sweat, and tears were all present and accounted for.
But here is the great thing: during one of the absolutely worst meltdowns I have ever experienced, I was reminded once again that I have some absolutely incredible people in my life. From the 4 other people in my group, there was nothing but encouragement, understanding, and support. Despite the pace everyone else could maintain (much faster than my snail's crawl) there was always someone holding up the back with me on the skin in. It would have been very easy for someone to roll their eyes when I had to have Mike build me a sit pit three-quarters of the way up the slope because my legs wouldn't carry me any farther, or snicker when I had to slide down the mountain on my butt because I couldn't bear pressure on my heels due to the giant bleeding blisters I had acquired. Mixed in there with my tears of pain and embarrassment were tears of gratitude and happiness. Because we have some freaking awesome friends to be grateful for, and that makes me pretty darn happy. Despite everything, I couldn't think of a better start to a new year than being humbled by the strength and kindness of friends and the raw, rugged beauty of the place we call home.
So here's to a new year and new adventures. To friends new and old. I am blessed to know each and every one of you and am so excited to see what we cook up in the next twelve months and four seasons, hopefully sans blisters. You guys rock.
And for the record, I'm not giving up. Despite my less than stellar first showing I will conquer the backcountry.
And also, a special shout-out to Nicole. That girl is a rock star.
Two years ago, when I tore my ACL and hamstring, my doctor suggested I take up backcountry skiing as an alternative to sitting on a ski lift and letting my muscles get all cold and tight and then trying to push them to perform. Apparently my muscles don't enjoy that, and I could very well end up re-injuring myself. No bueno. So finally, late 2011, we purchased me a lovely backcountry skiing set up so I could start enjoying the vast skiing goldmine that is Montana. New Year's Day 2012 was my first opportunity to enjoy my new hobby.
Mike woke me up at o' dark thirty (that falls somewhere in between 4 and 6 am) so we could suit up and make the drive from Helena up to the family cabin in Lincoln, where we would rendezvous with some friends and head up to Stonewall Creek, where we would get our ski on. After a short lesson in gear and a few words of encouragement, we were off up the skin track. For anyone in moderate to crappy physical condition, like myself, I would like to give the following advice: don't decide to take up backcountry skiing, buy a whole new set-up (especially boots), and then ambitiously try to skin several miles in to and subsequently up a mountain on your very first ski day of the season. And especially don't push yourself past the point when you start to question whether or not you will be able to make it out on your own. Long story short, my first day of skiing this year did not go great. Blood, sweat, and tears were all present and accounted for.
But here is the great thing: during one of the absolutely worst meltdowns I have ever experienced, I was reminded once again that I have some absolutely incredible people in my life. From the 4 other people in my group, there was nothing but encouragement, understanding, and support. Despite the pace everyone else could maintain (much faster than my snail's crawl) there was always someone holding up the back with me on the skin in. It would have been very easy for someone to roll their eyes when I had to have Mike build me a sit pit three-quarters of the way up the slope because my legs wouldn't carry me any farther, or snicker when I had to slide down the mountain on my butt because I couldn't bear pressure on my heels due to the giant bleeding blisters I had acquired. Mixed in there with my tears of pain and embarrassment were tears of gratitude and happiness. Because we have some freaking awesome friends to be grateful for, and that makes me pretty darn happy. Despite everything, I couldn't think of a better start to a new year than being humbled by the strength and kindness of friends and the raw, rugged beauty of the place we call home.
So here's to a new year and new adventures. To friends new and old. I am blessed to know each and every one of you and am so excited to see what we cook up in the next twelve months and four seasons, hopefully sans blisters. You guys rock.
And for the record, I'm not giving up. Despite my less than stellar first showing I will conquer the backcountry.
And also, a special shout-out to Nicole. That girl is a rock star.
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