How cross-country skiing helped Anne find herself, rediscover joy and mitigate the grief that could've consumed her future. If you've ever wondered how a gliding activity could manage mourning and provide the opportunity to heal - this post is for you.
With that, let's get to it.
ambassadörks
ANNE: Do The Damn Workout
Nearly a decade ago, and recently returned to Minnesota after years away, I began to cross-country ski.
I was young, newly married, and convinced I would die in winter if I didn’t find a replacement for running. Here is where I entered into the nordie-verse. There was the first year of happily shuffling along on too-big fish scales. The goal was to get outside. The workout was to break a sweat and stay active in winter. Winter was fun again! (I even snuck out of work early when the snow reports were just right!)
And then there were the first few years of skate skiing. I had to go fast. No longer would the middle schoolers in t-shirts and sweatpants swish past me. I would look the part in my cool gear and be fast. The teenagers were oblivious of my goal, but I kept score (I’m just kidding). Learning to go fast was fun! I did the workout and I felt strong. I entered a new level of the nordie-verse: the training groups.
And then there was the first baby. Doing the workout meant planning. I did the damn workout. Snow and wax conditions, be damned. I was out there braving every condition to get a ski in. Brought the wrong skis? I had to ski anyway. Forgot boots or poles? It was rentals to save the day. I was a new parent. I was tired, but doing the workout kept my mind and body strong.
And then there was the winter where every training night had negative wind chills. I hated the weather, I was exhausted from teaching and chasing a toddler, and I wasn’t training for anything. The season wasn’t fun, but I did the damn workout. (and trust me, there was a lot of “what the fu**? When the coach went over the workout). My mind felt broken that winter. Every time I did the workout I had one more reason to keep trudging forward. Every time I remembered when to V1 and V2 at the proper time there was another reason to keep skiing forward.
And then there was the winter after we lost baby #2. The winter I tried to process losing a perfectly healthy baby at 16.5 weeks, and holding her tiny perfect body, and having no answers.
The winter where the last thing I wanted to do was to commit to anything except my grief. The winter where I tried to sit in therapy but realized speaking would not heal me. Grief will take every last inch of space we allow it to have in our lives.
So I decided to do the damn workout.
The workout was different. I couldn’t commit to myself or to train my body so I committed to coaching.
Sunday afternoons I gathered with a group of kids, strapped on my fish scale classics (still too big), and did the damn workout. We played tag, and soccer, and relayed with beanie babies. We struggled to climb hills and we took frequent candy breaks. For a little bit each week, I worked through my grief by moving my body. And then I committed to coach a few other days a week, too. I also bought a better pair of skis! And each time I coached, I did the damn workout. That was my workout. It was enough. The grief was still there but it began to take up less room.
That was the winter I wiped out on hills, slid on my butt, and played ships across the ocean more times than anyone should ever play. The games were the workout and three times a week I did it.
The grief didn’t go away, it was always still there. I didn’t think I could ever trust my body again. Ski by ski my body did the damn workout. And the nordie-verse was cheering me on.
There was the winter when I was pregnant again. It was terrifying. So I did the only thing I knew, I strapped on my skis and I did the damn workout. The weather was terrible, natural snow was nonexistent, and I was training for a Korte that I ultimately wouldn’t race. I did the damn workout. Every Saturday I joined a local ski club, strapped on a hydration belt, and packed some snacks to ski for a few hours. My fellow nordies cheered me on as I tried to keep up.
Every ski was an hour or two where I didn’t have to think about how scared I was to be pregnant, or how scared I was that my body could fail me and the baby. Every ski made my body and mind stronger.
I put on pink for every ski. If my body or mind wasn’t feeling the brightness, I still looked the part.
And here we are, in a ski season with an almost five year old and 8 month old. I’ve never been so exhausted in my life. I’m working and chasing and definitely not sleeping. There’s more puke and snot and poop than I was prepared for. I think I fell asleep standing up last week, but…
I’m definitely still doing the damn workout.
There are many good and beautiful seasons in life. There are many difficult and ugly seasons in life. It is in the beautiful seasons that skiing has brought immense joy. It has been in the difficult seasons that each kick, each glide, each pole plant has reminded me of the goodness I lost sight of.
This world tries to convince us that we are little and insignificant but I guarantee if you commit to doing the damn workout you will see how truly good, strong, glittery, and great you are.
Anne is an Educator. Mom. Glitter-Goddess. Everything that glistens is probably glitter if you’re around her. The sparkles remind Anne to not take life too seriously and the skiing keeps her humble. Educator by day and MN Youth Ski League volunteer by weekend. Training for her first Korte on the Plymouth MN trails, learning to navigate life, work, and skiing with two littles at home. Her favorite candy is Peach O's and she can be found on Instagram as @annemccu
the closer What We're Thinking About.
That Anne is incredibly brave. To share these words with us about her journey through mourning and finding the beauty of a life well-skied. That doing the damn workout is a helpful way to orient yourself inside a confusing and unpredictable world, and how important moving our bodies can be to restore normalcy and a sense of goodness.
We hope these words were helpful for you, and they may inspire you to navigate a difficult chapter in your life using community - and cross-country skiing - as a way to heal.
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