My Thanksgiving has been nothing short of thrilling. I have more things to be grateful for than I anticipated and want to share a wonderful lesson I learned over the weekend.
I'm writing from Park City, Utah, where I have spent the Thanksgiving holiday skiing - a sport I absolutely love, but have not done in the last few years.
I woke up Thanksgiving morning with an almost childish anticipation of skiing once again. It was icy cold - 9 degrees... burrrrr - with clear blue skies and the sun shining so strongly on the white snow it was blinding. Getting back on skis and going up the mountain the first time was absolutely exhilarating.
Though the frigid air could cut through the blood like a well-sharpened chef's knife, excitement had my heart pumping so fast that I actually felt warm. John - my friend who happens to be an amazing skier-and I are at the top of Alta. A sense of freedom rushes through my body as I look into a white and frozen world.
"Are you ready?" John hollers with excitement.
"Of course," I reply with a slight cockiness.
"Then let's do it," he says, with the authority of a confident, veteran skier.
I look up at the signs and recognize the arrow that points towards the green trail (the easiest slope), breathe deeply, and I'm ready for a first fun ride.
I hear a "Follow me!"
I look at where John's skis are pointing. My eyes suddenly become bigger and wider than ever. I swallow with difficulty. John's skis are pointing over the edge of a steep and narrow slope. Definitely not a bunny hill. I say "Oh no no, John, I'm not ready for this. I haven't skied in years." He's not listening. "Are you out of your mind?" I cry out. "I need to go down a bunny slide before I try something harder."
John just looks at me with fierce eyes, and says nothing, but he is saying so much. John is a serious skier and he means business. For once in my life I am quiet, while I pray that I will make it down safely.
John asks warmly, "Can you leave your ego aside and follow my direction?" I trust him. He's a friend, but I think he is hallucinating. I say, "Absolutely." I look down the slope again... I have never felt so much fear before in my life.
John then hurtles over the mountain as I muster up the courage to take this great challenge. Suddenly, I'm flying downward on my skis at what seems 100 miles an hour. What an unbelievable feeling. I'm having a blast. Then, in seconds, I hit a big bump, lose balance and fall head first rolling down the hill about 10 yards before my skis snap off and I stop with my face buried in the snow. Once I get my bearings I look up to find John. I imagine he's working his way up to help me. Then I hear "Get up!" He is showing no sympathy. "Are you kidding me? You're not going to help me?" I yell desperately. "It's a miracle I'm alive." "Get uuuuup!" he screams again. "We don't have all day." The truth is I am okay and he knows it. John waits for me patiently. I better find my skis buried somewhere under the deep snow fast. After ten minutes of excruciating struggle I finally get my skis back on and continue downhill, literally.
I fall and roll at least five more times. I'm in pain...but I'm also having fun. Finally, I reach the bottom where John is waiting for me. Under normal circumstances I would expect John to show some compassion and tenderness for my tough ride down the slope. But something tells me I will not get any sympathy, so I spare the disappointment and smile.
John then says, "That was very good. You did it. I knew you could. I am really proud of you." I've already forgotten about the pain and I'm excited to go up again. So here we go. The chair lifts us high up in the air. I look down and see a man without legs skiing; another man without arms skis behind him. They're a reminder thatnothing is impossible in life when there is a will. We're the ones who create our own limitations. Watching these men inspires me to feel powerful and fearless in my next descent.
John and I are now at the very top of the mountain. I quickly forget my fearless attitude when I see John wants to go down what seems a black diamond run. "Oh! No, no absolutely no way, John. That is at least a black diamond slope." "No it's not," he says with a mischievous smile. No sense in arguing so I throw myself blindly into the abyss. I feel as if I am floating in the air; my knees bent rolling side to side at the speed of lighting. John yells, "Don't drop your arms!" I'm distracted and I lose my balance. BAAAAM! The fall is brutal, but I know it will be just one of many. Each fall is harder than the previous one. The soft, powder snow makes it difficult to get up, as my weakened limbs sink in deeper and deeper. Strangely enough, I feel becoming mentally stronger with each fall, even as my body is becomes progressive weaker. But I know the drill by now. I get up without complaining. After each fall there is a reward. The thought of skiing on powder snow-a skier's dream- makes it worth getting up and continuing. When I am up and skiing I am in heaven.
John skis right behind me for a while, giving me instructions, and making sure I am OK. Then he passes me like a flying arrow. Now I am halfway down and know I can't quit. I'm on my own, alone in the middle of nowhere. Only John and I have skied this path, which is obviously too dangerous for most. John has already reached the bottom. However, I still have a long way to go. The last stretch is the hardest but also the most fun. When I finally reach the bottom John is waiting for me with a big smile. I collapse. I can't feel my arms and legs. John says, "Look behind you, Ana." I do. "You just did a double black diamond." He laughs. My heart stops momentarily. "It's the hardest of all skiing trails," he continues. "Only some of the best skiers would dare to do it." For a moment, I hate him. How could he do that to me? I look at him and see his pride showing and realize the wonderful friend that he is. As difficult as it was, I had to admit it was one amazing run, something I would have never dared to do on my own. And I love him for believing in me.
I tell John I have never fallen so many times before in my life, to which he responds, "That means you have never tried hard enough in your life. You ski in your comfort zone, so you never get any better." I think about what he's just said and conclude that he's right. I look behind at the mountain once again, and suddenly I see my entire life ahead of me. We look at each other again and smile. He knows he has just taught me one of the most important lessons in my life.
Most of us take the easy run in life. We're too scared to go for the double black diamond run . However, this is absolutely the only run worth taking, whether it is about career, love or health. We may fall many times over, but each time we get back up we're stronger and we savor victory much more gratefully. The path back to health may seem the biggest challenge yet taken. It is a huge commitment but one much worth the risk taking because the reward that awaits is much sweeter than a Dunkin doughnut.
This Thanksgiving I gave thanks for the many milestones I have crossed and for the dreams that have come true in 2010. But mostly I am grateful for my family, friends, colleagues and clients who have faith in me. Those who have lovingly pushed me down the cliff knowing that although I may fall many times, simply believed in me, knowing that I would always make it down, fearlessly and triumphantly. Thank you for waiting for me at the bottom of the mountain and for reminding me to look behind so I realize how far I've come.
With Gratitude,
Ana
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