Further to my last blog …
I did it. I rose to the challenge and did not fall trying. I faced that mountain head on, I skied my ass off (well, actually that’s not true because there’s still far too much of it there), I did not fall, no sir, not even once and I lived to tell the tale.
Because today I can hardly move. And that is in no way even the tiniest exaggeration. My elbow aches (who knew you could get ski elbow which is like tennis elbow except you get it from shoveling snow and poling, two winter sports at which I apparently suck). My back aches (most likely from tensing up, trying not to crash or maybe just because I’m old) and worst of all, my legs ache. My quads are in full-on revolt. For me, today, the Olympics (Go Ladies!) was all about the gold medal descent down my staircase. Never in the history of sport have you heard such moaning and whining. Indeed, it was so painful this morning I thought I might have to choose only one floor for today’s life. A tough call when the bathroom and kitchen are downstairs and the television (Go Ladies!) is upstairs.
So up and down I have struggled. As the day progresses, it gets worse (Day 2 is typically the worst, this I remember). I am now reduced to taking the steps one at a time. You know, like a really old person.
Was it worth it?
Damn straight it was. Because skiing yesterday taught me the value of karma. The good kind.
You see, the day before my athletic shell-we-say test, I was approached by a musician. One I’ve never met but a lovely lad. L has some renown, we have chatted and e-mailed on occasion and he wanted to “pick my brain”.
Well let me tell you, if I had a nickel for every time a musician wanted to pick my brain or get advice or run something by me I’d own my own radio station. And it’s not just brain-picking. I get roped or sweet-talked or damnit sometimes I even volunteer to do stuff all the time. Stuff that I do for free. Yes, that is my go-to consulting rate. Free.
This is why I am broke. Most of the “work” I do, I do for free.
Now, I have long been a big believer in “Pay It Forward”. I reckon it is our duty (and a blessed one at that) to help others. Mentor them. Guide them. Save them from making the eight million mistakes we made. So I do it often and gladly. Except for when I’m broke and feeling sorry for myself and wishing I could turn my “knowledge” into income.
But I truly enjoyed my chat with L, especially when he told me that his mother lives near me (in Collingwood) and his uncle is the CEO of Blue Mountain.
Did you say Blue Mountain?
Yes he did.
And could your fabulously amazing uncle perhaps get me free (as in complimentary media) lift passes?
Damn tootin’, little lady. Can’t see that being a problem.
So I file that little gem away for exactly three hours. The time it takes for my son to text me and ask if he and two buddies could come up the following day and ski Blue. Of course, what he really means is If I come up to visit you, will you pay for my lift ticket?
I gallop back to the computer, email L, and barely an hour goes by before I have not one but FIVE lift tickets waiting for me the next day. Five fabulous freebies.
And that, my friends, is karma. This is what happens when you pay it forward willingly, knowing well enough it may never come back. But it always does. One way or another, it always does. Maybe not immediately, but eventually.
For me, yesterday, the Universe was just screaming Okay Vickie, stop feeling sorry for yourself!
Alas, the Universe is not responding to my cries of agony today.
But that’s okay too. Because this too shall pass, I did have a wonderful time on the slopes and I am fully committed to going back and trying again.