Viceless Day 22-28: Time Flies While Dreams Are Coming True

I've been sober, sugar free and without TV for 28 days now. I've gone through my own self imposed rehab. This is only the beginning of the process since I've committed to three months, but I understand why rehab facilities use 28 days. The past four weeks have been a struggle. I've gazed longingly at food, the blank TV screen and countless glasses of wine. So much time has been spent quietly yearning for what I've given up that I started to wonder if I shouldn't just partake in my damn vices. My time was being eaten by my desire for them anyway. I didn't feel great, glowy, pure and light. I just felt like I missed eating candy while watching TV.

My online mentor and inspiration
Gabrielle Bernstein.

Somewhere in the past week though, that all changed. Today, I feel better than I've felt in years. Recently, I've connected with three power player in the world of coaching and inspirational speaking. I've conducted my first Becoming a Badass Workshop to great success and I've taken on new coaching clients. My schedule is starting to  overflow with soul inspiring, cash producing work. People are telling me that I've inspired them to improve their lives and happiness! By getting out of my own way, I'm getting everything I ever wanted. My vices have been replaced with fulfilled dreams.

Last night, after finishing my Becoming a Badass Workshop I was giddy with excitement. I've been planning this workshop for months. Before that, before even starting this blog four-years-ago I had been following my intuition hesitantly toward this career.  I didn't know what a life coach was four years ago. I just knew that I loved inspiring, motivating, writing, performing, working with people, improving the world, and how-to's in women's magazines. How that was going to make a career, I had no idea. 

Three important actions have gotten me to this amazing point in my life where I have specific dreams, goals and a plan for accomplishing.

1) I've consistently listened to my intuition and feelings. Often there is a dichotomy between what makes sense and what you know you want. When I was deciding between colleges I was choosing between Boston University where I thought I should major in business and going to California Institute of the Arts to major in acting. I really should have gone to Boston University. I was a great student and could have probably amassed a lot of monetary wealth by now. When I thought about that future though, my throat tightened up and I got a small inkling that I should go ahead and kill myself now. I'm actually down playing that feeling. At the time, my mind said, "this is what you really need to do for your future." My heart always answered, "no, it's not. That will kill me." 

Listening to my heart, I went to California Institute of the Arts even though I knew I probably wasn't going to end up with the typical actress career. I was acutely aware that I didn't know why I was going to school for acting. I was conscious of my own inadequacies and lack of direction. I knew I was making a crazy choice. Still, it was undeniable that I would regret not following my heart. 

Ten years later, I'm not an actress. I'm a life coach and workshop leader. I use the skills I learned as an actress in my present career. At school I learned to be fully present, listen, trust my instincts, be bold, stand in front of people and effectively communicate. I even learned how to put together the workshops I now conduct. A workshop is a show. It must have a beginning, middle and end. It must be engaging. It must emotionally effect the participants. I chose the most amazing, practical undergraduate training I could have for my chosen career. Well, actually, my heart chose my training. My heart picked the training before I even knew of the career of life coach. That is the brilliance that comes from listening to your intuition. 

2) I embraced embarrassment and started before I was ready. I've taken this practice to the next level by following the advice of two of my favorite online mentors.  My spiritual coach Gabrielle Bernstein says you must embrace an attitude of "F-it. Let's go!" Marie Forleo, my business guru, is the queen of the empowering phrase, "start before you are ready." Both of these women are successful powerhouses. They encourage me to be more aggressive with an attitude that I've always relied on. You will never be ready, you just need to get into action. I wasn't ready to go to an acting program that's ranked 15th in the world. I had only done a few plays at my high school. I showed up and found myself surrounded by children of celebrities and people who had been child actors. I was in way over my head and thank God. I was pushed to my absolute limit to keep up with the brilliance around me. I wasn't the best, but I was playing with the big dogs. Think of the opportunity I would have wasted if I had said, "I'll go to acting school when I'm ready." I could have done more plays around Atlanta. I could have taken smaller steps but would I have? Big actions and big decisions give you big momentum. If I had stalled on acting school, I doubt I would have even graduated from any college. I would have stayed paralyzed by fear and my own depression. It's through action, risk and starting before you are ready that you will find your passion and momentum. 

3) I set measurable, timed goals with accountability. Unfortunately, with college my only real measurable goal was to graduate. I accomplished that goal but found myself lost after graduation. Moving to Jackson, I started to set measurable, timed goals. The most obvious is when I decided to ski 100 days in one season. Before setting this goal, I had probably skied a total of 80 days in the three years since I had learned to ski. Kinda crazy to jump into 100 days, right? Well, I wanted to be a badass and I wanted to learn what it was to truly be a skier. The 100 days kicked my ass and challenged me more than I could have imagined. I didn't know how to deal with different weather conditions. My ski boots weren't perfect and I'll always have what I must lovingly call my sixth toe (calcium deposite on the side of my foot). I frequently cried into my goggles and a struggled through exhaustion. Yet, I had told people I was going to ski 100 days. People rallied to support me because I had told people my goal, therefor setting up accountability. I learned more about skiing in that one season that I had in the past 3 seasons combined. I became a skier and have a life accomplishment that I can always think of when facing a new challenge. Hell, I skied a 100 days. I can do this. 

Notice, I didn't say to myself, I'm going to become a better skier and ski more. I announced to my nearest and dearest that I was going to ski 100 days that season. Measurable, timed goals with accountability are key for accomplishments. How will you know when you've accomplished something if it isn't measured, with a time limit and with others knowing your goal? Set yourself up to succeed. I ended up skiing 109 days that season. 

Once again, my challenges are pulling me toward my success. I haven't eaten crap, consumed alcohol or watched TV while alone. After 28 days, I've talked to some of my biggest mentors, held a workshop, grown my coaching business, inspired people to improve their lives and gotten written up in my local paper. Yeah, Viceless is working.

What are you ready to succeed at? Tell me in the comments below. Let's shape some ass-kicking goals for you!

Breaking to Build: I tore my ACL

I've always wanted this to be an inspirational blog. My favorite thing, moment, theme, whatever, is when something previously thought impossible is done. Maybe it's a homely girl discovering under that ugly over-sized sweater and glasses she is actually a hot girl, with killer confidence. Maybe it's Amelia Earhart. Maybe it's a baby's first steps. Maybe it's just laughing after a long time of not remembering how. Maybe it's becoming a badass. I love hearing about it, seeing it, being it, so that's why I started this blog. To encourage those moments in myself and others.

Whatever that elusive feeling is you get watching Forest Gump. That inspiration that puts a swing in your step and courage in your hear, that is what I've always wanted to be able to give people. I think you are all so so beautiful. Even those of you who kind of bug me. Especially those of you I can barely stand. I'm impressed with all of you. All of the blogs, the accomplishments, the relationships, the travel, the families, the big choices that you've made. I want you to be able to feel good about the steps you are taking.

I've torn my ACL skiing. I find out tomorrow if I need surgery. Even if I don't, healing is going to be a time and labor intensive process. I feel bad. I feel scared. I feel confused. Usually this triumvirate of feelings can only be cured by putting on heals and trying to dance like Beyonce. I haven't asked my doctor yet, but I'm guessing heels are off limits. My ability to shake it is also impaired. What the hell am I going to do now? How am I supposed to be happy?

My new year resolution is to be an unsinkably happy person. If I was struggling to maintain steady happiness while skiing every day, I think I might be in big trouble with this wobbly leg. The way I see it, I have two choices.

1. Under the guise of trying to shoot my lame leg off, I could shoot my head off.
or
2. Put on a black, fringed, spaghetti strap shirt and shake what I've got left.

I'm wearing a fringed shirt as we speak folks. This badass is taking it to the next level. I'm gonna have to master my mind. I don't just want to heal, I want to have fun doing it. My mind just wants to cry, pout, talk about how much this sucks, and be mean to people who are having a good time. NO WAY MIND. I'm gonna die happy, and if that happens to be tomorrow, I better make sure I'm happy now. This ACL process can't be just about getting through it. This healing has to be about keeping my good time going. I'd be honored if you all let me bounce these efforts off of you.

Thanks for being with me on this. I need all the support I can get now that I don't have a functioning right knee. And thanks for showing me how awesome you all are every day. It inspires me.

We All Deserve a Nice Polish

My toe nail is about half grown back from when I killed it at the beginning of the ski season. For ski boots, toenails must be kept as short as possible. Between the ski season and the havoc of summer, I haven't painted my toenails in about a year. Today, I've decided to paint that pitiful half toenail a pretty pink. The nail may not be conventionally pretty by magazine standards, but I don't see why it should be treated like it's pretty. First coat is on and it looks like a multi-dimensional, all pink, cubist painting.

Plus, it's snowing today, so I don't think it's going to be trotted about in sandals anytime soon. Not that I'm ashamed of you, toenail. You are beautiful just the way you are.

Back-Country Skiing: The Story of a Wimp

Just to let you know I'm a real live human being writing this, know that I'm telling this story while wearing a pink Snuggie and sitting on the corner of my bed, Indian style. Now, we are intimate. Let me share my embarrassment further.

Feeling all cocky at the end of the ski season, I decide I'm gonna kick things up a notch. The mountain right by my house, Snow King, that I've talked about before, being extremely steep and one of the first things I challenged myself to climb regularly, is taunting me once again. When the mountains have officially closed to skiing, stopping the lifts, people will continue to climb up them on foot and ski down. Yes, this crazy steep mountain, that I have almost thrown up while just trying to walk up the switch backs that aren't covered in snow, is a mountain that some people climb in ski boots, straight up. This town is fricken' cra-cra crazy. It appears some people are doing this on their lunch break! Don't they know that a good latte can take 4 minutes to make and fully savoring a panini takes 9 minutes. There isn't enough time on a lunch break to climb a mountain with skis strapped to your back. Some people don't understand time management. But, after two years of watching these idiots, I finally decided, if you can't beat them, which I def couldn't because there bodies are made of steel, join 'em. Plus, it's the off-season and I'm really, really bored. My other current project is at home laser hair removal. At this point, I'm up for anything.

Super motivation kicks in and I prance my booty down to one of the local badass stores, Skinny Skis, that I've really only bought fleeces and yoga pants in so far. Staring at the back-packs and glancing around the store, I'm hoping someone will say, can I help you, and I'll be able to casually ask questions, flippantly pretending I don't need that much guidance. I know the employees here are amazing cause I've seen them discuss gear with other people. This time of year, though, the town is practically empty and the store is switching over from winter to summer. All the employees are busily shelving. AKA: Ain't nobody gonna throw me a bone on this one.

I approach a woman. She's engrossed in organizing head-lamps. Interrupting her focus, "Excuse me. Could you help me find a back-pack that I can strap some skis to. I have absolutely no idea what I'm looking for. I really know NOTHING about it."

God bless this woman. She wasn't daunted. She laughed gently, sprung up, and said, "Ok. Let's find you a back-pack."

She then took 15 minutes to show me the type that would work for me, how to put skis on, all the advanced features I could grow into, and the best fit for my back. She even took the time to tell me about the skiing conditions on Snow King and the optimum time to go. Normally, I hate when sales people talk to me too much, like some little bump-it wearing boutique girl telling me that belts make all the difference. I KNOW ABOUT BELTS!!!! But this woman seemed like the Messiah to me. Thank you for taking the time to help me, glowing and beautiful Skinny Skis employee.

Next stop, scoping out the mountain. I'm standing at the base of Snow King, noticing there isn't a set path to walk up. I've heard about boot packs, which are like stairs in the snow that other people have formed by climbing up. This snow seems to be too thin to necessitate a boot pack. Not wanting to be the loser who is walking up and ruining the mountain, I decide I better ask somebody. Luckily, a middle-age man is just taking off his skis at the bottom. This guy looks like he will sympathize, since he has a belly big enough for me to curl up in and doesn't really seem to fit in with the super-athletes either. I once again, throw myself into the alter of self-deprecation.

ME: "Excuse me. I was just wondering if there is a spot that most people walk up this thing. I'd like to hike up and ski down but I've never done it, or anything like this, before. Any tips?"

HIM: "Oh, umm. Nope. You just get up there anyway you can. Getting up is the really hard part. You can just head straight up, or squiggle around"

Ahh, yes. I think I will squiggle. This guy is awesome.

ME: "And, where should I ski down? How's the snow?"

HIM: "I've been sticking to that path there. Pretty good."

ME: "Great! Thanks. Just gotta go get my snow pants on. Awesome. Sweet."

HIM: "Good luck." And with a smile and a couple of heaves. He seems to still be catching his breath. I love this man. This man is part of my team, even though he doesn't know it.

That part about just needing my snow pants is a lie. I've been planning all day to do this with my boyfriend, because the one thing I've learned about trying all this active stuff, is that I don't know crap, and it really helps to have someone there with me, even if they don't really know anything either. Another body out there helps. The real truth is though, that when it comes to physical activities and the outdoors pretty much everyone in this town knows more than me. Everything is a learning experience when you're really dumb. I'm blessed with a lot of teachers.

So, I'm waiting for a man to help me. I was raised in Little Rock, Arkansas and I just default to this setting. On my way to pick up said man, I get a call.

BOYFRIEND: "Hey, Babe. Chase wants to do some back-country today."

ME FULL OF DISAPPOINTMENT: "Oh, ok. Well, have fun. I'll catch up with you later."

BOYFRIEND: "No. No. C'mon. You've been saying you want to try this. You in?"

ME FULL OF FEAR: "Um, I don't think so. I don't have any of the avalanche gear. I'm not mentally prepared. I... You go. Have fun. I'm already turning my car around."

BOYFRIEND: "No, c'mon. I'm doing something with you. Just come over and we will either do Snow King or the back-country. Just get your butt over here."

ME FULL OF FEAR AND STALE OXYGEN BECAUSE I HAVE FORGOTTEN TO BREATH: "Ok."

I get there. I discuss this all with the BF and his epic skier of a roomie. They down-grade the back-country plans to something very light. Sugar Ridge or something. Some place with extremely low level danger and a simple hike in. Oh, yeah. I should explain. Back-country skiing is skiing in the national forest or where ever, but not at a ski resort. There are no lifts, you hike in, and there is no ski patrol whose job it is to save you. You need to have a beacon, shovel, and probe in case there is an avalanche and you need to be dug out. This is more probable because ski resorts bomb areas to prevent avalanches and in the back-country the only person looking out for you is your partner. Ain't no one gonna make it safe for you. People do it because the snow is amazing and you can continue to ski when ski season is officially over and the mountains are closed. This has definitely been a part of my fantasy. I want to be a back country skier. I've wanted to try this, but I don't know if I'm ready. The problem is, you can never know if you're ready for anything. You just have to try. Which is what I tell myself when my boyfriend pulls the ace on me as I waiver back and forth on going.

"C'mon. Aren't you a badass?"

This has been coming up a lot since I started this blog. I don't want to take a shot of tequilla and I someone says, "C'mon, badass." I don't want to ski and it's, "I thought you were a badass?" I get my feelings hurt and cry and it's, "You're a badass. Don't cry. There is no crying in badassery." Well, folks. Here's the news. I'm not a badass. I'm a wimp. I cry a couple of times a week. I feel lost a lot. I fall down frequently and randomly. I am a light-weight drinker and most of the time I would prefer to be home eating cake. I'm a wimp! Ok. I am. But, for some reason, I WANT to be a badass. I want it really bad. I want to be strong, physically and mentally. I want to take this life, and make it into something great. I want six-pack abs in my forties and a life I can tell my children about that will fill them with excitement and inspiration. That is the push-pull. What I am now, and what I believe I can be if I keep trying. So, I say yes to the back-country skiing.

I get a crash course in the avalanche gear that is strapped onto me and am shown how to strap my skis onto a back pack. This is all great stuff to learn.

But the skiing kicks my ass so very hard. The hike up kicks my ass cause I haven't been doing much cardio this winter. The skiing kicks my ass cause the snow is different than I'm used to having been baked in the sun. Also, and by far the worst, my fear kicks my ass. I'm out of my element, everything is new and I can't get my head to focus on skiing. Thoughts of my inability to do this new thing won't leave me alone, so, I see a tree and get scared I'm going to crash and fall over. I fall and fall and fall. My knees get fucked from it all and I'm feeling pain. Not can't-keep-going pain, but why-am-I-doing-something-that-would-inflict-this-much-hurt pain. I make it out, thanks to my boyfriend and his amazing friend helping me so, so much. Can't lie, though. I'm pissed. It was too soon for me and the snow conditions were crap. I shouldn't have been out there. More research and strength were needed for the trip to go well. I wouldn't have known that, though, if I didn't do it.

I've taken a few days off from physical activity. Icing my knees, stretching, and strengthening. This is the most pain I've felt in a long time, and the effects are different than I thought they would be. I thought I was pissed and not going to want to challenge myself like that again. I thought, good, an excuse to sit around and eat a lovely bag of cookies. Cookies are necessary but that isn't the final word. Now, all I want it to be better prepared and stronger. Then, I want to do it all again. I still dream about being a back-country skier and I just might be with a little help from my friends, sales people, and total strangers.

PS. It is unbelievably beautiful out there in the back-country.

Honeymoon in Waning

To Eddie, I said, "Some people after we graduated seemed to lose their minds. Have these people lost all perspective?"

"Yeah, and that one crazy girl lost her mind and moved to Wyoming. Three years later she is still there. What the fuck is she doing?"

Ok, Eddie. I hear you loud and clear. It's hard to miss anything my friends from college say since we all went to school for theater and are trained in not only vocal projection and enunciation, but in being as specific as possible with expression, using words, facial expressions, and our bodies. Even over a cell phone, Eddie can pin me down with his words. Really, three years later, what the fuck am I still doing in Wyoming?

I moved to Jackson Hole, Wyoming on accident. This happens to a lot of people, only most of the people come out here because they love to ski or hike and then find that they never want to leave. I came out here, not knowing how to ski, having hiked in the past but had traded in my hiking boots for some retro inspired peep-toe sandals years ago. A juice fast and a little meditation were the only things on my agenda when I came out here spur of the moment for what I thought would be a two to three week trip. My parents split their time between Jackson and Illinois, so there was a empty house just waiting to host my mental clarity retreat. The fast lasted two and a half days, was broken by a beer at a bar, where I was asked out on a date by the bartender and the rest is history.

Actually, it isn't that simple. If I had fallen in love with the bartender, he had ended up being a millionaire who just enjoys bartending, but his real passion was financially supporting me and taking me around the world, the rest would be a clear cut history. I guess the rest is the beginning of the adventure. The rest involves me talking to people about their lives out here and learning about travel, outdoor adventure, and living a life that isn't based around a career goal. The rest is meeting people who intrigue me and were open to sharing their passion for skiing, hiking, travel, and heavy drinking with me. This is the beginning of a story about finding love. Not the love of a bartender, but a greater love of life and the me who is living this life.

Three years later though, the honeymoon is over. I'm still in love with my life, but things need a little kindling to keep the fire burning. I'm not learning how to ski, I'm a skier. Sure, I've got a lot to learn, but now it's about the nitty-gritty. About devotion. It's not just amazing that I'm skiing now. Now, I have to get good at it, and that's always been the point in my life when I falter. Trying new things is a specific skill that takes courage and a willingness to fail and be humiliated. That I have. Getting good at something means sticking with things even after your limitations have been fully realized, but still trying and accepting that you are not a natural and you're not going to end up in the Olympics, but you can get good, if you just stick with it. I think. Don't really know, cause I normally don't stick with something long enough to find out. The initial rush of a new challenge is too enticing usually.

The older I get, the more I wonder though, is there a deeper fulfillment that I'm missing by always ditching out when things get tricky and moving on to a new challenge?

Skiing is just an example and not the main focus of this question. What about love relationships? What about work? What about my devotion to eating well and not just meal substituting margaritas and pizza for a full day of nutrition? These questions have to be asked now because something terrible is happening. I'm getting bored. As a person prone to boredom easily, I know the symptoms. Feelings of hopelessness, the desire for cigarettes, extreme quietness, watching hours of Sex and the City on DVD, and just mentally looking for trouble and a good fight. This is not good. This is no way to live!

So, how can I fan my own flame? What changes need to be made to keep myself passionate about life and my love for it? I've got some ideas: finding more fulfilling work, and being open to the possibility that more schooling may be in the future, a nice new dress and some lip gloss, creating some concrete fitness challenges, and trying something new socially like a dance class.

What I really want to know is, what are you people doing out there to keep yourselves motivated, happy, and fulfilled? I'm not about stealing.

Snot Knock

This winter has knocked the snot out of me. Literally. I was skiing one day, which is a pretty snot filled experience at all times. Skiers have no problem wiping their drippy noses on anything available. These people are so comfortable with the fact that their noses will be eschewing liquids all day long, that the gloves produced for the sport actually have areas that are made for wiping snot on. The product info that comes with purchase says something like "snot strip" or "nose wipe". What I'm telling you is, the gloves say, "It's ok. Put your boogers on this clothing and then wave them around at people. You're skiing. This is acceptable." I'll wipe on gloves, and I like to carry a dainty travel tissue thing with me, but I'm still quietly horrified by the ever popular snot rocket. This is where you use the force of your nose breath to propel the mucus from your body. No hands or material required. I get that it is practical. I get that we are in nature and societal rules just don't apply, but my inner city girl, who still fantasizes about cashmere cardigans won't let me snot rocket. I'm sorry. I just can't.

Like most of the things I thought I would never do, for example spending days without make-up and really ugly practical shoes, this damn nature has some how tricked me into doing. The other day, I was feeling badass, going fast, knees bent, soaking up the bumps, till one got me, and I hit a bump that sent my knees into my chest, literally, knocking the snot out of me. All I can really say is, I was delighted. I finally understood a literary term I've been using since childhood and obviously, I'm on the road to full out badass. I felt like a kid in the movie Stand by Me or like Huck Finn. I felt sparky and adventurous. My mind may not agree with snot rocketing, but my actions just can't be stopped. I'm just too naturally sparky and adventurous. Yes, I was very impressed with myself, ok? Goes to show, you never really know what's gonna get the excitement flowing. Life hold may surprises.

Don't get me wrong. I'm still not going to snot rocket on purpose. I need to hold onto some individualism and the prayer that I can still blend in a city, but it's nice to know I snot rocket if I have too.

Hot Older Women

As a 15-year-old, I remember being hesitant to wear eyeliner because I heard it would give me more wrinkles in my thirties. I still have trouble using heat styling tools on my hair because of the damage I fear they will do long term. Essentially, I'm willing to sacrifice quite a bit of looking good and hip now, in the hopes that I'll be a hot older woman, and here is why: I'm slightly obsessed with being a cougar. Always have been, always will be. When I hear people say phrases like, I'm in better shape at 40 than I was at 20, I get a little buzz of excitement. I think, hell ya, my future. My mind is taken over by visions of my all organic kitchen, green tea addiction, and the six pack I got from trying to keep up with my kids, just like Sarah Jessica Parker. Hey, you can't choose your fantasies. This is mine. All I can do is enjoy it.

I was blessed with a cougar filled day out on the slopes, that started with four moms on the shuttle from the parking lot talking alternately about their kids classes and the runs they were going to do that day. These woman were classic moms, except for one thing. They spend their weekends down-hill skiing at one of the most challenging mountains possible. Well, that, and for post pregnancy bodies, they were all bodacious. To say how bodacious, I must say that they looked bodacious in ski attire, which means they are not only cute, but can find ski pants that accentuates their butts. These are hot woman in ever sense. Not, Los Angeles, I will do anything to look like I am 20 hot, but like, I'm still super active, loving life, and an expert shopper hot. These woman spurred me to pay more attention through out the day to all the woman 40 plus on the slopes. It seemed everywhere I looked some silver fox was swishing around me, and I was happy to have it happen. If you're in your sixties and wanna fly past me, spraying me in the face with your snow, I ain't gonna hate. Celebrate! The death of aging like a wimp. I want to age like these badass'. In honor, at the end of the day, when my badass boyfriend led me over to the half pipe I gave it a go. Not, because I wasn't freaked out, but because there was a woman ahead of me encouraging her six-year-old son to try it. Not just try it, but to "see how big you can go." He did. She was laughing, saying, "God, I hope this doesn't make me a bad mother."

My reply: "No way. This makes you a badass mother. At least, he isn't going to live life filled with fear." With that, the woman said, "Yeah!" Turned to her husband with a huge grin and said, "Hope I'm not to old to try this!" She took off down the half-pipe, shrieking with delight. I followed. No big air was had, but I did laugh like a three-year-old who was just thrown into a foam pit at Chuck-E-Cheese for the first time. That type of joy is elusive and can only be found by trying new things, something that is harder to do as you get older and are doing fewer things for the first time. The harder it is to accomplish, the more badass it is though. I've known that since birth. So, at 15, I could have been a little sexier with eye liner and flat-ironed hair, but I'm saving that sexiness for later. When it will be really impressive. A weekend that could have been devoted to botox will now be devoted to skiing. Maybe I'm alone in my thinking, but to me, that's hot.



warning: skiing is very damaging to the skin and sunscreen must be applied. do not get all crazy "I don't care how I look." you will have missed the point entirely.

Before We Go Any Further

I must mention a story I heard at my recent job orientation. Working for an ski resort that has a reputation for extreme terrain, I should expect to be asked, "Would you please share your most adventurous experience with the group?" Didn't. Flabbergasted that I am now such an adventurous person that people would ask me to share adventure stories as part of my job, I started to search my mind.

Oh, yes! The story about taking a 4 person plane packed with 5 people off the island in Honduras. That could be good. Jumping off the 40 foot waterfall? Could work. Yeah. Maybe. Not that great. Poking the lava with a stick. I could touch on the bus ride over the mountain pass with the open door. Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeehhh...

"Ok, Todd. How bout if you start?"

"Sure. Uhhh, well? I guess it would be about 5 years ago. I was mountain biking with a couple of my friends and of course I was way ahead of the two of them, and, I was attacked by a grizzly bear."

The group waits. Eyes begin tentatively shifting ever so slightly. The search for confirmation of that being the entirety of the story is discreetly underway. Todd looks to his right and tries to pass the torch. The cardigan wearing snow bunny to his right is horrified. Luckily, this time, that snow bunny wasn't me. I would have tried to follow this story. The actual snow bunny knew better. She just stared at Todd, until, some dude asked, "What? Dude? Where? How?" Simple questions, but apparently the right ones.

It should be said, Todd is older. A ski patroller of middle age. No visible scarring on the face.

"Yeah, so I was headed up (name of trail omitted cause I forgot) and I was pretty far ahead of my two buddies. This griz comes at me from the side. All I heard was gnarly thumping, something I don't usually hear. So, I see the bear and it's already charging me. Man, it got me really good."

"Dude, how'd you get it off you?"

"My friends finally caught up and unloaded two cans of bear spray."

There is more to the story, but I'm already doing Todd an injustice with the shotty telling, so I'll let the gist of it speak for itself. The real gem of the story, though, came later when we were discussing the merits of helmets while skiing. Todd, piped up, "I'm sure psyched that I wear a helmet when I mountain bike. That bear busted one gnawing on my head."

I told the story of poking lava with a stick. Becoming a badass is a constant education in humility.