Warm and energetic from the sugar rush, I decided to go on a more challenging run. Usually, I stuck to the intermediate groomers—the runs that the plows flatten out and don’t have any hidden moguls that might have killed my knees.I’d been doing those the last two days, though, and I was ready for something that kept up with this new, false sense of energy I had. And maybe it would keep my mind off of a certain someone.
I took a chairlift for a run called “Dill Pickle” that said it was a Black Diamond. Usually, those are for experts only, but according to the map, this one split off into three different blue runs, so I had adequate chances to abort the mission if need be.
On the ride up, I was sitting next to a couple who were gently arguing. “I don’t feel safe going down this slope, Jerry. Why don’t I just ride the chairlift back down and meet you in the middle?” she said, to which he replied, “You can’t ride the chairlift back down, dear. Only gondolas can be ridden both ways at Sage Mountain.” Then, she started to panic, as this one led to only Black Diamonds. I knew the feeling, having been very scared the first few expert runs I did years ago.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” I said quietly, “but this run doesn’t look that bad. If you’d like, I can go first and scope out the easiest route for you to take.” She nodded.
“I would love that, thank you, because Jerry here is too good of a skier to remember what an easy route looks like,” she giggled, and I could feel the energy between them change.
“Great. Don’t worry; even on the hardest mountains, there’s always an easier way down.” I didn’t know where the words came from but for today, it felt like God. As we rode the rest of the way in silence, I thought of the hard mountain I had been on this last year. That I had put myself on. I was self-isolating with workloads that were not sustainable. I had made huge life changes to stop seeking out dates and while that brought me peace, it also made me feel incredibly lonely. And, I hadn’t taken any extra time for myself to reflect upon these things. Yet, here I was on a vacation to work out these thoughts, and I found myselfshacked upwith my gorgeous cowboy neighbor.God, You really do have a sense of humor.
After the chair dropped us off at the top, I saw the way down that was the easiest, but still a great challenge. I told her to follow my tracks, to which she did confidently. Her partner, Jerry, stayed by her side in solidarity.
This Black Diamond was known for its steepness. I had to take a few breaks on the way down for how hard I was working to not fall forward, but the challenge to my muscles and skiing ability was welcomed. I enjoyed every moment of it, even when it felt unbearably hard. “Thank you, Lord, for skiing!” I shouted, as I tore through the powdery snow. He had blessedthis mountain with an amazing amount of fresh moisture—so much that it knocked out the power of my chalet. Again, I laughed at the circumstances.
As we all made it down to the first fork in the run, they had several options of easy diversions, including a long green cat track that circled around the whole mountain. It might have taken an extra hour to get down, but if you really needed to use it, you could have.
“Hey, thank you. It was nice skiing with you. You’re a really good skier,” the woman who held her hand out to shake mine said. “It’s Stella, by the way.”
“Nice to meet you, Stella. I’m Presley.” Jerry put his arm around his lady.
“Are you here visiting, or do you live here? I’m always looking for ladies to ski with. The local women's skiing group didn’t gather this year, and it’s really put a damper on my progress.”
“I wish I lived here! I’m just up from Denver for the week.”
“Oh, you're here for the Winter Games? This place should be a mad house right now, but the highway shut down. We totally lucked out with all of this fresh pow to ourselves!”
“I haven’t thought much about the Winter Games. Didn’t even realize that I came on the same week as that,” I grinned, not wanting to offend a local regarding my lack of knowledge for their largest event of the year.
“Yeah, Jerry here is a huge fan of Theo McCain. The ski jumper.” I nodded in recollection of the name.
“Isn’t he hosting the Games?” I think I heard that on the radio.
“Yep. And Jerry is taking hisWheatiesposter for him to sign. What a dork!” Stella playfully punched him in the shoulder and giggled. “Well, maybe I’ll see you around! Have a great rest of your stay here in Sage Mountain.” We said our goodbyes, and I watched them ski away, opting for a blue groomer calledBigfoot.
My legs were tired and despite my afternoon sugary treat, my stomach was starting to growl. The chairlifts and gondolas in the distance started showing less people—last chair was coming up quick. Instead of fighting to get one more run, I opted to ski down all the way to the bottom of this one instead.
Skiing was usually a lot of time spent in prayer for me. I prayed for my safety, my clarity, my choices, and for those around me. I prayed in thanks for the fun experience. I lovedbeing outdoors, and it was times like these that I realized how prohibitive my career was of that. The creative thoughts started flowing to me in the ways that I’d like to improve my life when I returned to Denver. Maybe I’d find an open-air office that I could work out of? No, that wouldn’t work. Half the year, it was too cold. Maybe I’d take on less work? I liked the sound of that one.
As I contemplated what I could do to have more of God’s beautiful creation surrounding my everyday life when I returned home, my thoughts went back to Ford. How would he and I end this arrangement? Would we exchange phone numbers? Or would this just be one of those wild stories that I told ten years from now about the week I spent in the chalet next door?
I was reminded that the power could come back on at any minute. Wasn’t that a good thing, though? It would probably have been for the best. Before Ford got sick of me. Before he thought I was too talkative. Too inquisitive.Toomuch.
A pit formed in my stomach as I considered what would happen if he thought these things. And even if he didn’t, I’d been so hurt by men I’d dated in the past—men who barely knew me at all, but didn’t hold back their harsh judgments of me because they felt threatened or put off by me. It changed the mechanicsof how I acted around people. I no longer felt the freedom to be myself.
As I made each turn, I considered in my head what God thought of this fear. I was a person with so much love to give. Why was I hiding behind past hurts and judgments? I always treated people with respect and kindness. Why didn’t I instead lead with this love and God’s grace?
Starting today—no, right that moment—I was no longer going to tiptoe around people in my life in fear that they might not like who I was. Ford included.
Reaching the bottom of the slopes, I kicked off my skis when I ran out of skiable terrain and put them over my shoulder. My clunky ski boots had me walking robotically on the paved sidewalks that I realized now were heated. This was an expensive place, Sage Mountain. A lot of development had happened here just in the last few years since the private airport was put in. A fleeting thought crossed my mind: Could I ever afford to live in a place like this? Excitement rushed through my veins as I contemplated it. It wasn’t that I didn’t like Denver, but my workload was crushing my soul, and I didn’t exactly have a place that I could just ski out of when winter called. I was imagining what mountain biking was like here in the summer, asI’d heard they converted the ski runs into trails for bikes when I made it back to the chalet.Ford’s chalet.
Out of respect, I gave the door a gentle knock before entering the keypad. For all I knew, he could have been walking around without a shirt on and not expecting me. My cheeks went hot at the thought of it.Pull yourself together, Presley!
“Hello, Presley,” Ford called out to me, as I entered the chalet. He was fully dressed, thankfully, but his position on the couch with Priscilla on his lap was still bringing all the feels. The self-talk wasn’t enough. I needed prayer, and I needed it as soon as possible.
“Hey,” I replied back, delayed. “How are you?” I sat on the bench of his entry way mud room and began unbuckling my ski boots.
“I’m tired,” he said, with not a spark to be heard in his voice. He looked exhausted. Priscilla, on the other hand, looked absolutely full of it.
