Skiing Alone Flying through powder

We ran away.

We took the kids and we are literally on top of a mountain.

Hubby's mother had a 5.5 hour emergency surgery yesterday. It's lymphoma and it's bad. I told him she could come live with us, that I would take care of her if it's what he wanted. I also promised to not repeat the conversation.

He is my husband, any decision he makes will be fine with me. I love him and I'll do anything for him, including caring for his mother who gave me such a magnificent man.

Adam and Eve have learned to snowboard. Hubby has learned too.

Something wonderful happens to me on the mountain and I'm free.

I find the steepest meanest trails I can, covered in powder to my knees and I ski so hard I fight for breath and every so often I'm so scared I cry.

But I ski like I run. It's intense and it's solo and the physical challenge shuts my brain off for hours at a time.

The teenage hotshots whip past me coming off the ski lifts but I glide past them, weaving through the trees, jumping small cliffs and my 37 year old knees are giant shock absorbers. My thighs are tight and they ache but there are so few things in this world that I know I do better than most.

Skiing is something I do better than most

And on the Mountain

No One

Can

Catch

Me

NO Matter

How Hard

They

Try.

I needed this. Hubby needed a break, Adam and Eve needed this.

Tomorrow I'll ski and run since I'm now adjusted to the altitude.

This is bliss.

I may not be a size 2 but my body works perfectly and I'm immensely grateful for that.

I believe.