Focus Downhill, or, Lessons I Learned from Skiing

This Christmas, for the first time EVER, my immediate family decided to play rebel and do our own individual family vacation. We talked throughout 2015 about how nice it would be to spend some quality time together, just the four of us, and so my awesome parents planned us a trip to Killington, Vermont.

For those of you who aren't familiar, Killington is a beautiful resort nestled in the picturesque Green Mountains of Vermont. It has long been known in skiing circles as one of the premiere ski destinations, and they pride themselves on having the longest season of any ski resort. (Irony of all ironies, it had not snowed yet this season while we were there, so sadly, many of their runs were closed. But we still had an AWESOME time.)

I myself have never skied before in my LIFE, so I knew this was going to be an interesting trip. I was reflecting this morning on some of the things that I managed to pick up while on the mountains, and so I thought I'd share these insights with a broader audience.

The not-so-snowy-or-Green Mountains

Focus Downhill, OR, Lessons I Learned From Skiing

1. Set yourself up with the right equipment.
Almost as soon as we checked into Killington, we sought out the equipment rental shop. (Unfortunately it was closed for the evening when we arrived, but we went FIRST THING the next morning, before we skied.) Before you ever set foot on a mountain, you need to make sure that you're set up with the right equipment. If your boots are ill-fitting, or your poles are too long or too short, or your skis are too long, you will find the journey ahead VERY difficult.

In skiing, as in life, preparation is everything. You have to have the right tools to help you out before you can start the work ahead.

2. Read the slope before you slide down it.
Like I said, I had never skied before we went on this trip. I've skated before - inline roller blades and ice skating - and knew that the basics would apply, but only marginally. So, wisely, my parents signed me (and themselves) up for ski lessons on our first day. It's not impossible to ski without lessons, but it is very difficult.

Keith was our intrepid instructor, and one of his very first lessons to us was how to put on skis. Apparently, you have to read the slope that you're on when you are laying your skis down, and place them perpendicular to the slope. Otherwise, your skis will quickly slide away from you, and you'll look like an idiot chasing your skis downhill. (Plus, it's VERY difficult to run in ski boots.)

This makes sense if you think about it - you need to read your surroundings before you jump in. You need to learn which way is downhill (and which way is up) before you endeavor to ski on your merry way. In skiing, as in life, awareness of your surroundings is critical.

3. Focus downhill.
This is probably my favorite lesson I picked up on our ski trip. As Keith was teaching us the basics on our first day, he made sure to emphasize the goal of keeping your torso and head pointed down the hill at all times. If you look at your feet too much, or focus too short-sightedly at the slope just ahead of you, you can lose direction and momentum. You could also run over someone - the corollary to this lesson, as my brother sagely stated, is, "Pay attention to the skiers in front of you. Ignore the skiers behind you."

In skiing, as in life, it can be unhealthy for you to focus too much on the short-term, or the past. In order to be truly successful, you've GOT to think about the future. Even though it's tempting to focus on the here-and-now, ultimately, thinking about what's ahead will better guide your current steps. You don't have to think ALL the way to the end, but focusing on something further in front of you will make your path more smooth.

4. Don't be afraid to take risks.
On the first day, my parents and I stuck to the bunny slope in order to work on our basic skiing skills. The next day, though, it was important to me to branch out, to challenge myself. My dad and I spent half the morning skiing on the one green run that was open, and then the rest of the morning my dad, brother, and I took on a blue run. In retrospect, I was NOT READY FOR A BLUE (see the next lesson learned), but I'm glad that I tried it.

In skiing, as in life, it's important to take risks. I'm glad I tested my boundaries, and I'm glad I pushed myself beyond my comfort zone. It was terrifying, but I survived it, and feel more accomplished for having done it (even if I failed miserably). Which brings me to...

5. Everybody has to start (and fail) somewhere.
I was not. ready. for. a. blue. run.
I fell on ice, and slid away from my skis, and my brother had to drag me back to the snow.
I fell in the middle of the run, and had to drag myself over to the side of the slope so I didn't get run over by the MUCH more experienced skiers and boarders.
I fell on flat parts of the run.
I fell on steep parts of the run.
I  fell at least a dozen times, and because I have very little upper body strength, I had to take off my skis EVERY TIME I FELL, and put them back on again. I was exhausted.
At times, I gave up, and walked down part of the slope. I was absolutely terrified. I had an emotional breakdown at one point, and my poor, sainted father had to quite literally talk me down.

In skiing, as in life, failure is inevitable. But you have to start somewhere. You have to learn your limits, and accept them, and then pick yourself up and try again. You have to acknowledge the fear when it comes, and then let it go to move on. You have to know when to try something, and when to ask for help.  And, you have to be thankful for the people who are helping you on the journey (bless my dad and brother. A run that would have taken them 30 minutes took the three of us an hour and a half, and they stuck with me the whole way).

~

Ultimately, we had a great time skiing. Even though it wasn't easy, it was such a fun and adventurous experience to wrap up 2015 and begin 2016. I'm so thankful that my family went on this journey together, and spent a happy Christmas in Vermont (even without snow!).

A Week of Thankfulness #2: Home

In the spirit of the holidays beginning, and Thanksgiving being in TWO DAYS, I've decided that this week, I'm going to blog every day about something that I'm thankful for. Yesterday, I talked about sisterhood; today, I want to talk about home.

I really like the multiple definitions of home, as defined by good ol' dictionary.com:
1. a house, apartment, or other shelter that is the usual residence of a person, family, or household.
2. the place in which one's domestic affections are centered.

If you think about #1, I suppose my home now is Bloomington, IN, and for that, I'm thankful, although it's strange to think that my "usual residence" is no longer in the state of Texas. In fact, the place I consider my hometown, where I lived full-time for 10 years and part-time for 6--S'nangelo (San Angelo for the uninitiated)--isn't even the place I return for the holidays anymore, considering my parents moved to a different city (and different state) around the same time I did last year. But, I'm thankful for the 16 years that San Angelo gave me, and I'm VERY thankful for the year and half that Bloomington has given me, especially as it has meant full-time, gainful, awesome employment. Bloomington is a COOL town, and IU is a COOL place, and I'm thankful for my "usual residence," even though it's somewhere new (and winter is a new thing for me).

I've also called a few other places my "usual residences"--College Station, TX, for a magical 4 years, and Tallahassee, FL, for a fantastic 2 years. I'm thankful for all those cities did for me and gave to me; they were pretty cool towns to call home.

Now, though, we're approaching into the territory covered by definition #2, and I love the way that dictionary.com phrases this--"the place in which one's domestic (familial) affections are centered." Even though my hometown isn't my "place of usual residence" anymore, I still have MANY domestic affections centered in The Wool and Mohair Capital of the World (that is a real nickname, y'all). San Angelo will always be my hometown; reppin' the 325 'til I die (forgive me).

Then, there's College Station, TX, a place where my familial affections find their epicenter, thanks to the Aggie Family. Being a Former Student of Texas A&M University means the world to me, and I am SO thankful for the values that Aggieland instilled in me. My heart beats a little faster when I drive down Highway 6, headed for a beautiful place that I'll always call home.

In an unexpected turn of events, Tallahassee, FL (and, more specifically, Florida State University) became home for me during my time in graduate school. Especially in my coworkers, my students, and my cohort-mates, I found a new place to center my domestic affections. FSU is a special place, and the Higher Ed program (and the LifeNet) have become my home and family more than I could have ever predicted. I'm thankful for the work that the professionals and students at that school do, and I'm thankful for the confidence that I gained during my time in Talla-classy that prepared me for my current home and position.

Finally, here's the real crux of this post--I'm thankful for the people who exist in my life who give me places to "center my familial affections." There's my extended family who live ALL over the country (and world), but especially in DFW, who give me a chance to call those places my home. There's all my best friends who, again, live all over the country, giving me more "homes" than I can count. In fact, this Thanksgiving, I get to call Austin, TX my home, thanks to several of my best friends from college.

That's the real beauty of home, I think--it exists wherever your family exists. And I'm thankful for my family and friends, who give me a reason to find home wherever they are. In the end, the old saying is true--home IS where the heart is.

So, for my family and friends--you are my heart, and my home, and I'm thankful for you!

A Week of Thankfulness #1: Sisterhood

This week is Thanksgiving, one of the BEST holidays of all time (second only to Christmas). Evidence:
Item #1: Centered around gathering loved ones together and eating FOOD.
Item #2: Encourages a spirit of thankfulness.
What more could one want from their holiday?

So, in the spirit of this time of year--one of my very favorites, for the aforementioned reasons + a few more--I decided that this week, I'd write a series of posts chronicling some of the things I'm most thankful for. Today's post, to kick off the series: I'm thankful for sisterhood.

When I talk about "sisterhood" as a concept, I really want to address how multifaceted that word is, and what those facets mean to me.

First, there's the idea of a sister. I don't have any biological female siblings (just my big brother, who's pretty darn cool), but I do have some extraordinarily close family and friends who I would categorize as my "sisters." First, there's my VERY awesome sister-in-law; I really couldn't have asked for a better woman to marry my brother. Then, there's my closest girlfriends from high school, college, and graduate school, who to this day all provide love, support, challenge, and sanity. I couldn't be more thankful for these female peers, who are more than just friends to me; we are FAMILY.

Then, there are the organizational sisterhoods that I have been a part of. More than I can say, I'm thankful for my Maggies, who (I always said) are the sisters that God gave me since He didn't give me any biological ones. My sophomore year of college, I needed to immerse myself in a group of women who would challenge me and set an amazing example of what women could do at Texas A&M, and I most definitely found that in the Mags. And now, I am SO thankful for finding a new (and life-long) sisterhood in Gamma Phi Beta Sorority. My joining a sorority and becoming Greek AFTER college was completely unpredictable, and yet I cannot sing the praises enough of the wonderful women I've met so far (and of my sisters far and wide who I haven't yet met!). Gamma Phi has provided a wonderful balance point for me here at Indiana, a chance to get out of my own head and be a part of something bigger than myself. It will also continually provide me the chance to support and encourage young women in their college careers, and to surround myself with amazing women who are doing amazing things across the world. Which leads me to my final point...

Third, I am thankful for being a woman, and for the worldwide sisterhood of womanhood. There is strength in numbers, there is power in support, and one of the things I have valued the most throughout my life is the example of strong women--my grandmothers, mom, aunts, cousins, friends, mentors, advisors, colleagues--who strive to build a network of other supportive women in their lives, and who have supported ME through good times and bad. The women in my life, from those who have advised me to those I now advise, consistently challenge me to be better and to grow and mature, and they consistently provide wonderful examples of kindness, strength, friendship, and love. I am so thankful for the women that are already in my life, and the ones I have yet to meet.

To all the ladies out there--We are sisters, you and I, and I am thankful for you.

Missing.

Can you miss someone you've never met?

Loss and grief have been on my mind recently, as I'm sure they've been on many people's, considering that the 10th anniversary of the September 11 tragedy is coming up tomorrow. I'll briefly share my "where I was" moment--it was the fall semester of my eighth grade year, and the first I heard of the attacks was in my American History class, taught by Mr. Benson. I was thirteen years old, and not quite mature enough to understand the scale of the tragedy that day. It honestly didn't hit me until I came home after school that afternoon to my mom, sitting in a chair, watching our television and crying as though her heart were breaking. That my mother could weep for so many strangers hit me much harder than anything I had seen on TV that day, and I realized that our world had changed.

Thankfully, I didn't know anyone who perished in the tragic events of that day, although one of my uncles was in New York City at the time, in Tower 7 of the World Trade Center, and we didn't hear about his safety for a day or two after the 11th. But each year after, I have done my best to take a few moments and reflect on the sadness that that day represents, in the loss of so many lives, but also the unity it brings in inspiring our nation to come together, and the hope it stirs in so many people cooperating and rebuilding a city and each other's lives.

As I've become older, stories about September 11th touch me more and more deeply, bringing the grief that I didn't feel as a teenager but can now better understand as a young woman. Again, thankfully, I haven't had much personal loss in my life as of yet; not many of my immediate family members or close friends have passed away. But reflecting on the events of September 11th bring to mind the losses that I have felt. A beloved uncle, Steve, passed away in 2003. An unquestionable goofball, a musical genius, a sweet and kind man, Uncle Steve was hard to lose, and I still think of him often, at unexpected moments. Further back, my mom's mother passed away when I was three, when I was too little to remember the grief, and her father passed away before I was born, even before my parents got married. I never got to know this set of grandparents, and yet I miss them. I love when my mom and aunts and uncles tell stories about them; they bring them to life as the brilliant characters they were. Both loved music; both were devoted to their church, their faith, and their family. A picture from the time they were engaged, taken in the early 1940s, captures youthful joy--Nanny's hair is perfectly coiffed and she wears a stunning dress; Granddaddy looks handsome in his Navy uniform (he served in the Pacific theater on a submarine during World War II), and they both smile and glow with love. I never got to meet these amazing people, and yet I miss them. It saddens me that I never got to truly know this special part of my family; yet I know that Nanny and Granddaddy both look down on me with love and pride. I do as best as I can to make them proud, and when I do something that I am proud of, I think of them, and I can almost see them smile and know that they're proud of me too.

Can you miss someone you've never met? I believe, undoubtedly. I feel the absence of those who are gone; I do my best to make them proud.

On this 10th anniversary of September 11th, I finally begin to miss those who perished that day. Accounts of the bravery of the passengers of Flight 93 and the firefighters and policemen and citizens of New York who pulled people from the Twin Towers and Pentagon bring me to tears, as do stories of those of us who are left behind to, simply, miss them. Their absence leaves a hole in our lives, a hole that doesn't stop aching through the years.

Even so, this ache becomes more bearable, because I believe the ache can be assuaged with making those who are gone proud. I try to make my Nanny, my Granddaddy, and my Uncle Steve proud every day; I believe that remembrance and the bravery to rebuild will make proud the memory of those who died 10 years ago tomorrow.

We must not be afraid to miss those who are gone, but we also must not be afraid to unite in our grief, to comfort each other through it, and to look for the dawning of another day and a bright future. The future is bright--New York City unites to remember the lost; the World Trade Center is being rebuilt as a beacon of hope; Americans have a common event that can unite our purposes and make us one out of many, E Pluribus Unum.

To those who are gone, we miss you. We love you. We will make you proud.