This weekend, we spent four nights and three days in the Italian Alps at La Thuile ski resort. I use resort loosely as it was definitely a quiet, sleepy, ski town. However, it had all that is needed for a ski holiday and we stayed at a nice hotel where we could use the spa facilities every day as part of our stay. It also turned out that our hotel had one of the only open places to eat during the day, so we made the most of our stay.

It has been almost exactly three years since we last went skiing. Three years ago, our puppies were almost a year old and they were eager Beagles discovering all the new scents their noses could hold. Unfortunately, my ankle couldn’t keep up, giving me two years for full recovery, which included the removal of my plates and pins minus one in the middle of my ankle. 

So, I was really looking forward to this trip as I have always been keen to get on the snow. There is something mesmerizing, meditative, and peaceful in listening to edges glide side to side across the slope and the wind blowing past the ears as one speeds down a beautifully-covered mountainside. When I was in college, I used to have dreams about the perfect run whenever I was missing the mountain of my childhood. It was with this romantic view that I anticipated our weekend in Northern Italy.

At almost fifty-years-old, I do not actually consider myself “old”. I think of age in print as just a number and that it is how one feels or thinks that defines their age. However, I must admit that the mountain, this time, gave me an idea of the meaning of I feel old. 

Physically, I was OK skiing. It took me longer than anticipated to remember the flow of up, down, plant, turn, to glide. Despite my ankle injury, it felt good. Though, I did feel the remaining pin and there was some swelling in that area that wasn’t there before. Still, there were no aches and pains or soreness of my muscles. The only physical problem was a sense of bruising from the pressure of my boots, which is a fairly normal sensation I get when skiing and probably could be have been remedied if I had been willing to spend a bit longer in the over-heated, crowded ski rental office. As it was, I had been in twice already and was not willing to go a third. Basically, though, my body was fine.

One never really considers the mindset or mental state involved in an activity when one is young. Everything is fresh, easy, worth a try. Or, at least, that is how it was for me on most physical things that I felt I could do. If I wasn’t sure if I could do something, I just didn’t do it. My sense of self and determination were strong whether going for it or not bothering at all.

While I want to blame my lack of full enjoyment on the differing etiquette–what I would call none to speak of–or the weather with brain-freezing winds or semi-white-out conditions depending on the day, the truth is that anxiety and a new sense of cautionary fear struck.

It was no longer exciting to feel a bit out of control as I picked up speed on a steeper slope. Thankfully, I was confident to know how to stop myself or slow down, but my younger self would have just turned my skis downhill and let gravity have its way. 

It was no longer gleeful to discover how the snow mounded here or there to direct my path downward and quickly adjusting when I hit a patch of built up snow that would cause me to suddenly slow down. My younger self would have turned those mounds into a mogul obstacle and practiced the quick twists and turns of a new course.

It was also no longer endurable to sit on the lift as the blustering wind blew through my helmet, goggles, and gloves causing my head to hurt. My younger self would have laughed and just taken in the beautiful scenery instead. 

These things might seem minor, but somehow my body felt them heavily. By the end of the second day, we had probably done a total of eight or nine top-to-bottom runs over a day and a half on the slopes, and we were exhausted. We lamented that we were not young anymore–at least not mentally.

It is such a strange thing that has happened. I never would have expected that my love of skiing could have been diminished, even just three years ago. Yet…I have to say that I might hesitate to go on another long-ski-holiday. We agreed that we are now probably fair-weather-skiers who are happy to just enjoy the soft, gentle slopes of Mt. Amiata nearby–when it does have enough snow and the sun is out. I haven’t hung up my ski gear altogether, but I am processing this mental shift. 

Who knows, maybe it is just that I was getting a cold that got worse by the day? Perhaps, when I go again in full health, I will have a different story to tell. 🤪 

~T 🔥🐉♋️