Ok guys. Here’s the deal. I haven’t written a blog post in a while because with this damn Omicron, all of my plans have been scrambled. Here’s a synopsis of what’s been going on the last month or so:
Early November: Yay! I’m home! Hi family! Hi friends!
Mid November: Wow it’s so nice to see everyone, but time to start looking at flights back to Ireland! *news headline flashes* What the hell is an Omicron?
Late November: Welp, flights to Europe are getting cancelled…gotta figure something else out (cue approximately 35 different travel plans, brainstorming sessions with my increasingly exasperated parents, and lots of midnight-Expedia-shopping sessions). None of that worked out, Covid is going to get me stuck in some random hostel abroad so….I’m going to fulfill my lifelong dream of being a ski instructor!!! I’ll wait out the winter then go back to Europe in the Spring. Easy, done. (I also had plans to visit three Catholic monasteries in Colorado on my days off).
Early December: I made it to Colorado and I am officially a ski instructor, fulfilling my childhood (and also secret adult) career goal *triumphant leap in the air*
December 14th, I get dropped off at Steamboat’s employee housing with my suitcase in one hand and my skis in the other.
Holy. shit. I was really doing it. I’ve dreamt of being a ski instructor since I was a kid. Skiing is my favorite thing in the entire world, hands down. I’ve skied since I could practically walk.
As I unpacked my bag I felt a wave of gratitude for the time and opportunity to fulfill this dream despite having to postpone my plans abroad.
I immediately started my instructor training, spending a week with other new-hires and our trainers, professional ski instructors. It was freaking awesome: free lessons from professional skiers!? And all along, I became fast friends with my training class.
By December 18th, I was teaching my first lessons.
I can’t emphasize how incredulous I was throughout the entire process. There I was, doing my favorite activity everyday, with friends who love to do the same thing. After spending the day teaching kids to ski, I got to explore the mountain, town, and surrounding hot springs (yeah, sick right!?) with my new group.
Pinch me.
Christmas Eve Eve
So what’s with all the past tense, Carine? *Cue your suspenseful music of choice*
Well I was planning to fly home for Christmas on the 23rd at 2pm. Just a few hours before, I was on the mountain enjoying a day off and found out about a Covid exposure. Given the transmissibility of Omicron, I made the difficult decision to cancel my flight and decided to take a couple more runs to clear my mind.
(Hopefully you see where this is going…otherwise we need to work on your context clues)
Last run of the day, a blue trail, not going super fast, and BOOM, I catch an edge and spin out towards some trees. Hitting a tree while skiing is just about worst case scenario, so I forced myself to fall (first fall of the season, I might add).
*POP*
*EXPLETIVE* *EXPLETIVE* “MY SEASON IS OVER!?” *EXPLETIVE* *EXPLETIVE*
Not to brag (ok maybe a little), but I’m a pretty good skier. Double blacks and all that stuff. Yet there I was, going into shock, on a BLUE trail with what I knew was a….
“HI SKI PATROL, I TORE MY ACL, *some colorful language*”
“Ok deep breath, you don’t know that for sure!”
“OH YES I DO”
I was sobbing on the phone with my best friend Mandy, waiting for the patrol sled to come get me. I was in a bit of pain and definitely a bit of shock, but in that moment, I was totally overcome with rage. How could this happen? Why did this happen?
The whole sled ride down, I prayed and prayed that I was wrong about my knee, that I was being humiliatingly dramatic, and that my hunky ski patroller, Matt, would laugh with me about all of this over a beer (still owe you a beer, Matt!!!). I kept thinking about what would have happened if I had used my other pair of skis or if I had skied with some friends on the other side of the mountain.
But my most devastating “what if” was this: what if I had gotten on that flight home?
An hour later, I was laying on an ER gurney, waiting to get MRI confirmation of my second torn ACL and meniscus (first one was in 2014…and this time it was the OTHER leg ughhhh).
I’ve never been angrier in my life. I had been so careful, wasn’t going too fast, had been doing preventative exercises, had been taking care of my equipment. I took every step to have a safe season. Yet there I was, day 11, done with my entire season (and not one single powder day, either!!!). It was just a weird fall.
I was devastated the entire night, inundated with all the harsh realities of this freak accident: my traveling/fellowship is probably over, I’ll be on crutches for over a month, I’m going to be alone and injured on Christmas, I won’t ski again this year, I’m going to have to quit this temporary-dream-job, I’m going to have to leave all these incredible people, I’m going to have to go through ACL rehab…again. And worst of all, I may no longer have travel content for my loyal blog subscribers!!! Gasp (you better be gasping)!!!
I went to bed that night mad at the world, mad at myself, and for the first time, mad at God.
Christmas Eve
Did I wake up with a better attitude, a more optimistic outlook? Did the rest inspire me to see some silver linings?
Hellllll no. My pity party was on the verge of a noise complaint.
And it didn’t help that my whole body hurt. I mean every inch of my body, not only my knee. I tried to turn over, tangled up in my awkward new brace, but found myself dizzy and out of breath.
Well that’s weird, right?
I mean I did fall, but not super hard…my whole body shouldn’t hurt like this.
So I grabbed a spare Covid test and decided to be safe and just give it a go. I was negative yesterday…. there’s no way my luck could be that rotten.
WRONG.
Yep. It was a big, fat, positive test (yeah, you’re allowed to laugh…it’s pretty absurd). I didn’t even have to wait 15 minutes, the result came back in 30 seconds. And just as quickly as that red line formed, my fever came on and I started violently shivering.
Police lights are now flashing at my pity party.
Ok so at this point my little brain was like “maybe I should tell a parent.” My parents were really upset that I didn’t come home for Christmas and I certainly did not want to tell them that right after cancelling my flight that I also blew out my “good knee.”
So I spent the whole night on Zoom, watching my family at Christmas, laying in bed with just “a nasty case of Covid.”
At one point, my mom spotted my crutches in the back of the frame and asked if they were mine. “No way! Those are someone else’s… we’re at a ski resort! Someone’s always hurt! ha..ha ha…”
*alarmed 👀 from my roommate*
“Carine! Get up and walk!”
Ok so I 100% cannot walk at the moment, but I’m telling you, I was going to dig deep and do it to ~save Christmas~ (not all heroes wear capes). Luckily, there was some kitchen emergency and my mom scurried off and left me comfortably horizontal.
Christmas Day
Zoomed the family as they opened gifts and felt pretty glum.
Watched church online too. This was really difficult. When I tore my ACL, knowing I wouldn’t be home for Christmas, I was still hoping I could attend local mass and feel that sense of community. But with my Covid, I had to watch alone in bed.
I had lots of mixed feelings. I loved hearing the Christmas songs and listening to the hopeful messages, but at the same time, I was so angry.
Breaking Up the Pity Party
As you might suspect, I’ve had lots of time to think…and lay down….and do nothing. And today, December 28th, I’m not super happy or excited for the long recovery ahead, but I am grateful.
Here’s what I’m angry about losing: my active lifestyle, my running, my mobility, my ski season, my job, my travel, my independence, my Christmas. But every single thing on that list is temporary. I’ll recover, I’ll ski again, I’ll postpone my 2022 marathon for 2023!
I’m just going to have to be patient (which I’m not…but here we go!).
And all of those things could have been worse. I could have hit the tree I was avoiding. I could have torn all of the ligaments in my knee. My Covid could have been more serious. ACL surgeries are pretty run-of-the-mill, too. I’ll be totally ok…in 6ish months.
And the travel? That’s the really tough one. I don’t know what lies ahead for this fellowship given the lengthy recovery time for an ACL. I’m still exploring options, but I’m sure I'll come up with something and in the meantime, I’m going to heal as much as I can and think about all the amazing things I’ve already accomplished. The Camino, Scotland, Poland, France, England, Ireland…I’ve done a lot already and I’m very grateful despite being disappointed.
I’m not mad at God anymore because I’m holding onto the belief that something good has to come out of this….right? (I freaking hope so). I took this year off to travel, think about faith, and meet good people. I’ve done all those things.
The faith part is hard because I was feeling so in tune with religion, my beliefs, and all of a sudden I’ve had this giant challenge thrown at me. But there’s got to be a reason, a message of some kind. I’ll just have to wait and trust. I firmly believe that everything happens for a reason, even the shitty stuff.
And some good things have already started to happen from all of this, too.
All of my new friends have shown me so much unexpected generosity (generosity! the big theme of this year!). Henry, as reckless a skier as he is lovable, made me homemade soup. Kelly brought over a sample of her spiked hot chocolate (much needed). Parker picked me up from the hospital and helped me grab supplies from Walgreens. Rob brought me our favorite ski snacks (peanut M&Ms of course). My roommates surprised me with some candy on Christmas (and have made countless ice-pack laps to the freezer). I got here just two weeks ago, and all of these incredible people have shown me so much generosity.
And my friends and family back home have also shown so much generosity. Mandy was on the phone with me the entire time I was in the ER and waited with me as ski patrol came down (and apparently tracked my location on the mountain while I was on the rescue sled). All of the dudes have been checking in, making dumb jokes, and putting a smile on my face. Victoria calls me everyday on her walk. Amalia has been listening to my frustrated-sad-delusional WhatsApp rants for days. Mags and Maria T sent me comfort food. So many cousins and friends have been facetiming me, checking in.
If you’ve seen It’s a Wonderful Life, you know that famous closing line: “No man is a failure who has friends.”
That’s exactly how I feel.
P.S. Getting Even
Literally.
The night I tore my ACL, I was talking to a friend and I was super, inconsolably sad. I said I was trying to find a silver lining but couldn’t think of a single one at the moment.
We thought for a bit and found one: “at least you’ll be symmetrical!”
That’s right…I tore my left ACL/meniscus in high school and now I’m operating on the right knee with the same surgeon using the same procedure.
Honestly the whole situation is eerily “symmetrical.” When I tore my ACL last time, I was also skiing. (Even the Covid thing is weird: I got Covid skiing last year in Colorado…).
Is it the Colorado thing or the skiing thing? Beats me. Not quitting either, regardless.
Now I’m going to do something I SWORE I’d never do.
But I think it might be therapeutic…or symbolic…or just entertaining for you, my devoted readers.
I’m going to tell the story of how I tore my left ACL/meniscus.
I was at freestyle ski camp in Mount Hood. I had this ridiculous notion that I was going to be the next female star of the X-Games. How I came up with that, I cannot tell you.
One of my very thoughtful, sensitive, considerate peers thought it would be funny to download the video of my crash from the camp GoPro. Without my permission, he posted it on an online ski forum.
A few weeks after surgery, a friend from camp said I was on the front page of some ski website. Huh? What?
That video now has over 20,000 views.
Now you might be thinking: “Carine!!, aren’t you going to give us the link!?!”
Nope, no way. That is a secret. But if you can find it, email me. I guarantee you won’t…
So yeah, at least this time, no one saw the crash!
There’s a silver lining for ya.
P.P.S. One More Thing
A wise quote from my friend Karthik: “Well at least it’s got to be up from here for the New Year.”
Um, yeah, let’s hope so!