Stick a fork in me; I’m done!

This has been a week. I don’t know what else to say about it other than it’s been a week! The pressure and stress and busyness of tax season reared its ugly head this week and I found myself tired, crabby and overwhelmed most of the week. I worked a gazillion hours and still got my workouts in.  I can honestly say that a couple of nights as I drove to the gym after a 12+ hour day at work, I almost convinced myself that the world would not come to an end if I didn’t exercise. I ate “okay” this week and was rewarded for all my efforts on the Weight Watcher scale on Saturday morning with a small weight gain. It was sort of the final straw that broke this camel’s back and after the weigh-in, I dropped my head and let those hot, tired tears fall. Perfect.

We’d been blessed mid-week with the mother lode of snow so I had all kinds of ambitions to cross country ski sometime on Saturday. In my cross-country novice mind, the snowfall would make for incredible skiing and I knew that I absolutely had to get out and ski one more time. I was so looking forward to gliding through trail with wild abandonment while releasing all the bad mojo from the week. Skis on, poles in hand, ear buds plugged in, I push off and head out on the trail.

I got about a quarter way through the trail and my left ski sticks in the snow and boom, down I go. Great, this is my first fall ever and I lie on the side of the trail and try to figure out how to get up. I try to get to my knees…right…two feet of ski in front and behind my foot and there’s no way to get to my knees. Okay back to the drawing board. I then try to sit up and get my feet out in front of me and I slide my feet back and forth in front of me as I get no traction. Duh, blonde girl. I finally bend my legs sideway at the knees so my skis are parallel to my body and get my poles on either side of me and somehow push myself back to a prone position. Whew. I’m sweating!

I cautiously move forward as not only is the snow sticky, but it’s also full of branches that had snapped in the heavy snow. The trail is also icy in other spots where the sun has melted it and the shadows refroze it and if I had a half a brain, I’d turn around now and head back to the car, but I obviously don’t have half a brain. I probably get a couple hundred feet further down the trail and I see that I’m about to go down a small hill. I try to put the brakes on so I can shuffle down the hill sideways on my skis, but it’s too late and I fly down the hill until, yes, I hit yet another sticky spot of snow and boom, boom, I’m sitting on my butt at the bottom of the hill. I believe I may have uttered a few choice words and once again, worked myself back up. I am not having fun and I know that I’m at best only halfway through the trail.

Face grim, smile gone, bad thoughts going through my head, I forge on and make it around the next bend before my ski gets stuck on a branch and boom, crash, bang, I’m on my side semi-sliding down a hill. You’ve got to be kidding me. Really, I’m down again? Ahhhhhhhhh!  I’m in a pickle this time. I’m halfway down a hill and have absolutely no clue what to do to pick myself. Nothing is working so I start looking around to see if I can wrap my arms around a tree and drag my sorry butt up that way. I spy a small tree…probably 6-8 inches around… and try to calculate how I can drag myself to it. So believe it or not, I drag myself to the snow bank that’s about five feet from the tree and fortunately dig my skis in deep enough into the snow that I can pull myself back up with my poles. But wait! I am now facing away from the trail and I start sliding down the snowbank toward tree and Sonny Bono comes to mind as I know that I’m going to meet my maker as I begin to fly down the five feet to the tree and crash into it! Noooooo! Just as quickly as I see my life flash before my eyes, my skis suddenly stop (divine intervention perhaps) and I’m able to walk my way back to the trail and resume this torture trip.

I’m now shuffling my skis as little as possible while still moving forward. I’m sweating inside my mittens and my sunglasses blur my vision from the snow that has worked its way inside the lenses every time I fall. I have snow inside my socks (I foolishly kept the ankle socks on that I wore to the gym early this morning) and one of my ear buds is dangling around my waist. There is no joy in Mudville. All I want is to be done. I want to be in my car and riding my sore butt and damaged ego home. That’s what I’m thinking as hit the one and only spot on the trail that has absolutely no snow on it and yes, I’m down. I’m down, I’m swearing, I’m crying and I’m defeated. I have no idea how much further away my car is, but I know, without a doubt, that I will not survive another minute on these skis. I debate whether to just slip my feet out of my boots, abandon the whole deal right there on the trail (mind you, I just bought these skis the day of the big blizzard) and walk back to the car barefoot in the snow or if I should try to remove the skis and walk like a semi-sane woman along the trail to the car. I decide to protect my investment and after ten minutes of trying to poke my pole into the ski release, my skis are finally off and I rise, dust off my pride and limp the seemingly 20 miles to my car (was probably ¼ mile).

I throw my skis, poles, boots, mittens, headband and snow pants into the back of the car and make my way in my wet little short socks over to the driver’s seat, plop down into it and look at myself in the mirror. I’m a mess. My hair is standing straight up, my face is red, my nose is running, there’s mascara under my eyes and I have a leaf on my cheek. I look at myself again and smile at the crazy woman looking back at me. “You are something else,” I think. “You are something else.” I officially declare this week one of the worst weeks I’ve had in a long time. No more skiing…no more adventures. I decide that I am overwhelmed and I am done for the week. Yup, that’s what I decide. I am done!

On the way home, I stopped and bought a pair of snowshoes. Stay tuned for the next adventure!

(Postscript – my husband read this and said he felt sorry for me…oh no, not my intent (unless it would earn me jewelry or flowers)! This was just one of those if at first you don’t succeed, fall down again and figure it out!!!! Suck it up, buttercup…better days are coming! )


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