BREATH OF SPRING

Age is really just a statistic. Isn't it? There's a person inside of me that seems untouched by the passing years. She keeps life interesting because she doesn't act her age. She doesn't really even seem to be aware of her age. Nor does she really care about anybody elses'. She just keeps on keeping on yet she constantly surprises me. Today was race day. I remember as a 12 year old skiing at Wildcat and Black Mountain in Jackson NH that I was most impressed by the "Silver Streaks". That's what they called the skiers over fifty and I remember thinking to myself...Wow. I hope I can still ski when I'm that old. When we moved to Maine in 2000, I was a terminal intermediate skier because I really never had too much of a chance to practice my skills. We...as children...came north with my Dad to ski maybe once a year. I was told by a ski teacher at Whitney's Hill that I might become a ski racer because I seemed to so enjoy the speed. I was rubbery and much closer to the ground...bouncy and springy and flexible.As parents of young children, we struggled financially and managed to make one trip a year to the mountains...enough to pass on our love of winter sports to our kids but still not enough time to break through the intermediate barrier. I would be pretty confident after the third day but we never stayed longer than 4, so the next year, I'd start from scratch again building up my confidence. Stephen lived in Vermont for some years and he really became proficient as a skier...but until he learned how to coach a student in skiing, he was pretty pathetic as a teacher. He believed in me. He figured I could do terrain that I felt intimidated by and sometimes it seemed that skiing with him set me further backwards. But things have changed because of living up here. He actually talked me into participating in the locals challenge race and so at the tender age of 57...I dropped into my first course and skied my first gates. When I crossed the finish line whole...I cried like a baby....such was the cache of fear that I had built up in my mind and the relief I felt once I completed the run. I felt like a 10 year old. And actually...as I recall...I fell that run even though I finished. Today I felt similar. Now I'm 59 and I've been participating for 2 years and now am working on my third.

As I weave between caring for my Mom and trying to be strong and supportive of my baby sister as she sets out to beat Cancer...I feel tender...uncertain...never clear if I will become tearful at some odd little thing...a song in the supermarket...a look between a mother and child...I have very strong feelings...anger, sadness, delight in my blessings. Sometimes when I come home I am irritable and crabby and I just want to hide. I can't do anything to change things for my family...but I can be there and I can help get through the days that challenge. But I often feel like an infant. Can't find words to communicate...sometimes I can only cry...kick my legs and pound the ground. Anguish is exhausting and it leaves me little in the way of energy for the more superficial issues that surround me. I find I am open and vulnerable...somedays, feeling like an almost 60 year old...somedays feeling like a 12 year old.
Strength ebbs and flows. I'm never sure if I can actually pull off what I've set up for myself based on my self-knowledge of the past. I went to my first day of volunteering at MHS...Maine Handicapped Skiing and rather than help a disabled person to feel the joy and freedom of skiing, I began to weep. I met my own sad self and was totally unable to rise to the occaision even though rationally speaking...a time of unemployment is a wonderful time to volunteer and stay connected. I realized I couldn't take the pressure right now...that my needy little self needed to free ski as therapy. Everyone is super...very supportive...understanding...forgiving. And there I am...feeling inept...can't rise to the occaision...that old critic slips in for a field day. Confidence is hard won. And it builds slowly. Set backs are tough. They demand that a person develope a new tactic within ...supportive...understanding...forgiving. Can't I BE THAT PERSON? Well yes I can...as long as I'm willing to see the rude, mean and critical way that I talk to myself.

So we had a few inches of snow yesterday and we slept great on our new king sized bed. The morning dawned soft and everything was highlighted in white. As I rode the chairlift to the top of Barker to take my first race run, there was a thermal inversion. It was cold and sleeting some at South Ridge but higher up on the hill, the temperature went up a lot. We rade through the fog and as we came out of it, I inhaled deeply and my lungs were filled with a warm southern air...a real smell of spring. I felt like a little kid. Conditions were great but the light was flat and my goggles kept glazing over. I was nervous about the race. I try not to think too much because that seems to screw me up. If I think too much I talk myself out of things better than I talk myself into them. So...no talk. Just do it. And I did. I took a dive about half way down the course. But I told myself...get up and finish. So I did. No dramatic tears at the end. No awkward self-conciousness. I made it. I finished. I'm whole. And because I got up and finished...I didn't go again. Didn't need to. I probably came in DFL...but the whole point of this lesson is to show up and do your best for the team. Noone is judging me. Dare I drop the judgement of myself? That really makes me feel young...just like a child of the universe who deserves to be here. I'm so much younger when I lead with my heart... and that old almost 60 year old lady that thinks too much...talks too much and judges too much...well she's really doing just fine...especially when she forgets too much.