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.
