Today, I thought I would make my one and only descent down Aspen Mountain – by foot. Why by foot, you ask? Why not by skis (like every other adventure-loving, athletic person), you ask?
Well, for me, skiing is akin to suicidal ideation. I’m NOT a skier. No way. No how. In fact, I’m the anti-skier. I would be happy and content if I never had to contemplate skiing ever again.
On that note, I was just thinking that it sure is great to be contemplating NOT skiing versus Chemo Sobby. Silver Lining!
Well, I didn’t realize quite how long of a trek the descent down the mountain is (4.7 miles, not counting getting lost).
My vision of strolling down the mountain was clearly a delusion of the uninitiated.
Along the route, I met muscle-rama-man and muscle-rama-dog. They were coming up what appeared to be a fun trail (off the beaten path, I might add). When I inquired about the trail, he said, “Blah-blah-blah-easy-turn-blah-blah-and that will get you down the mountain.” I was too affected by the altitude and ok, let it be said, awe-stricken by muscle-rama-man’s muscles to listen to the logistics of getting myself off of Aspen Mountain.
I thought: “I’m done with treatment. I’m overzealous. Why not try an adventure?”
Well, after two slip-in-slides down said adventure trail (turns out it was a F-bomb black diamond!), I found myself at the mainstream path. However, thanks to chemo brain, I couldn’t remember which direction muscle-rama-man told me to go.
I took Yogi Berra’s line “When you get to the fork in the road, take it” literally. Right? Left? Right? Left? I turned Right. As I ascended (up was NOT the direction I intended to go!), I finally reached a crest that overlooked the trail I was meant to be on. Ohhhhhh, I chose the wrong direction.
So, back down the hill I went.
Then, I noticed the time. WTF? The HOTY (still the Husband of The Year) and I had to be at a lunch in less than 45 minutes…and so I had to R-U-N.
Yes, that’s right, I’m done with radiation for a whole 5 days and I found myself running down Aspen Mountain. Ding-flippin’-dong. Where, oh where was my pace car? When on earth am I going to learn my lesson?
On my way down, I turned one of the 1200 corners and found what appeared to be an art installation. Look at these colorful, interestingly displayed skis, I thought. Beautiful, I thought. However, upon closer inspection, this “installation” is actually supposed to be a deterrent to going off the cliff. Yes, the cliff.
WTF? Really? How on earth do I get myself into these circumstances?
I ended up sliding down the mountain, wiping out right in front of the Gondolas. It wasn’t pretty. A lot of F-bombs were dropped.
BUT, I made it to the lunch on time and was so very happy to be laughing at myself on the side of the of a beautiful mountain on a beautiful day instead of being in a chemo clinic. What a beautiful Silver Lining (even though I can’t walk and can barely lift my head off the pillow)!
Being in a good frame of mind helps keep one in the picture of health.