THE DARK SIDE OF LOCALS CHALLENGE

    Wednesday is the day of the Local's Challenge Ski Race. This morning, schools are canceled and there is a mix of snow and freezing rain falling...the mountain is shrouded in fog and temps are beginning to rise creating a freezing google condition. We don't race during the February vacation week so we haven't had a race since two weeks ago. I discovered with the last race that my ski boots are really all packed out after 10 good years, but because they are so comfortable, like a pair of bedroom slippers, the messages from my brain were not getting through to my feet. I feared there was something wrong with my brain. I could feel, as I skied, the impulse to turn but my feet just couldn't seem to make it happen. I wondered if my age was beginning to have an effect on the workings of my brain. I felt a lot of my confidence drain away right after I had my skis tuned. They no longer felt like my skis and for some reason (probably due to my old boots). Then...miraculously, a new pair of ski boots just threw themselves at me. A friend and fellow racer had purchased the boots over the internet and she could not make them work for her. I tried them on. I skied on them a few times. I was elated because suddenly, I experienced the impact of good equipment on my ability to ski. My brain regained its connection to my feet and I began to ski with more confidence. Slowly, I seemed to be getting back to my usual self. I skied both Monday and Tuesday in preparation for today. Western Maine has missed out on most of the snow that has fallen on the area...so the conditions are what they call..Firm. To me, the conditions seemed to be treacherous. There were many places where there was a dusting on top of ice. Sunday River does a fabulous job with making the best conditions possible with man made snow and a careful approach to snow making. You could find snow around the patches of ice so it could all be negotiated in good light. I worked hard practicing my turns for a solid feel to approaching today's race.


     In a past race, I took a spill on the ice. When a kind man helped me up, I was moved to finish my race anyway...and as a reward, I managed to make 18 points for my team. I received high fives all around. My ego felt warm and cozy and valuable. When I was a child taking ski lessons at 9 or 10, a ski coach commented that she could see me being a ski racer because as a child I enjoyed the thrill of speed and the feeling of flight. I did not make that prediction come true until I was 57 years old. Sick of being paralyzed by fear, I signed on to a team and began to race. Every time I stood in the starting gates, I felt like I might have an accident of the toileting nature. Every week I practiced silencing my mind and doing it anyway. Unbeknownst to me, I had found a way to teach myself not to believe everything I think. I was in control. I could go as slow as I wanted to make it safely around all the gates. The race time was not important. What was important was the challenge to my fear...the acknowledgement that yes I was anxious, but no...I would not let that define my life. Not once have I been hurt during a race. This year I have been challenged by the lack of real snow. I seem to have trust issues with man-made anything. I invest heavily in Mother Nature and I respect her down into my bones. When I got up today , there is a fog bank sitting on top of the ski area. I had addressed all my equipment issues and gotten more comfortable on my skis and felt excited about using my new equipment to do my gates.


     As I sat drinking my morning coffee, gazing out the window, I felt anxiety building. I could go slow. I took care of my equipment. I was familiar with the varying conditions...but when I saw the fog, my courage caved. Now, instead of taking up the local's challenge, I am here at home, writing my blog. I have not shown up for my team. I have essentially wimped out. The language is self depreciating. Embedded in my choice of words is a judgement. Somehow, I must be competing with other people my age who did show up for the race today. I am comparing myself. I am assuming that other folks assessments about racing conditions today should mirror my own. Not one person knows what I cope with in my equipment issues or how I experience the conditions. Nobody knows I get severe vertigo in the fog. Nobody knows the courage I need to muster to participate in these races even on a good day. I am the only one who really knows the messages coming from within and it is up to me to take care of myself as best as I can. As a wise old elder, I am listening to myself. So...shall I beat myself up over failing my team? If I was 57, yes. But now I'm 63 and I have some years under my belt with this racing business. I have never missed a race. I have never not shown up for my team. The challenge is supposed to be fun...but when the option to call my own shots is removed from the equation, and I am supposed to be part of a team that would overrule my own best intuitions, and I am hyped with fear and anxiety...I need to stop. I am NOT a wimp.

    Today, I stand at the gates of my own writing. The fog disorients me. The pressure I put on myself is just to clarify myself. I've never been 63 before. I have never had a moment like this before. I drop into my own course despite the mean names I use as labels. I get soft with myself. My gentle heart feels strangely empathic to my inner turmoil. I go to turn and can't get an edge in the icy crust of my self judgement. Writing is a brave thing. Owning your limits is a brave and intelligent thing. Turning something that appears to be a failure into a success is an art. Not showing up for my team, I show up for myself. I doubt my team will judge me like I judge myself. Everyone misses races sometimes. I am only human. Impossible standards  create frustration...and this is supposed to be fun. For a girl who always aspired to be like the guys, today is a bittersweet medicine.  I will no longer endanger myself by trying so hard to be someone I am not. I will not label myself or belittle myself for choosing to stay off the course today. Today I will be my own team...high five myself for my bravery in self expression...savor my freedom to choose...and hopefully discover the humor in my human frailty. Really...the only race that I need to join is the human race. And if I am ever to discover the greatness inside of myself, the comparisons have to stop. There is nothing simple about being a human being but of one thing I am certain...it is kindness that really matters.