The Damaged Diva is back. Again. Comeback number 13 is officially complete and I am about as sharp as I can be at 47. Now I spend my cherished days chasing my kids, driving all over northern California and sharing my time between my subaru and a shopping cart at Costco. When I think of the last 5 years, I think of George Jetson on the treadmill of the future and Astro, the dog, turns up the pace so fast that George can't seem to catch up. "Jaaaaaane! Stop this crazy thing!" Yeah, that's my life. It's the life I (and countless others) have worked so hard to save over the last three years. I have officially put Breast Cancer to my six and now it's all hitting me. The emotion. The psychology. I find myself struggling with the age-old question of "Now what?" Certainly, my first reaction is "Time to give back," but the "how" soon becomes overwhelming. I am grateful to so many for my life. Soccer, Skiing, Martial Arts, Family, Friends, and in each category, thousands of people. I'm doing my best not to take this on full speed. Instead, I've decided that the best thing I can do is reconnect with all those that have played a major role in my life in the entire span of 48 years. The theme of my black belt test was "Warrior Spirit. Remember your Roots. Fight to conquer yourself." It's almost as if the Universe intervened to send me a giant, cosmic slap up the backside of my head. Remember your roots. It's a good place to start. I have reconnected with my father who almost passed away this year. I have reconnected with my mother who has decided to make her own life changes. I have reconnected with many friends from High School and Park City, and one of the biggest organizations in my life, The Park City Ski Team or Educational Foundation.
This past weekend, I was given the honor and privilege to introduce two of my "adopted dads" at a PCST event. they were being honored for their incredible generosity of time and money to help Park City become the Olympic powerhouse that it is today. Because I was the daughter of a single Mom, I was frequently farmed out to the parents of my activities. While my Mom is still my Mom, I also have several adopted Moms who kept me out of trouble, found all the items I left behind, and helped me strategize to keep myself together. Well, those Mom's have some pretty great husbands who helped us financially as well. And not just us. Both of the men I introduced had raised millions of dollars for the Park City Ski Team which just this year produced two gold medalists at the Olympics in Sochi, and has continued to produce Olympians, NCAA champions, National Champions and all-around great human beings over the last 45 years. When they asked me to introduce them into Park City Ski Team's Hall of Fame, I was so excited and so honored. I wanted to do a good job. I wanted to honor these men the best way I could. I prepared. I focused. I tried not to talk too much or say "um". I got stuck in a rut of emotion but managed to pull out of it. The well-timed pause always has an effect. I was pleased because the two men I introduced came up and said a few words. About our team. About U.S. Skiing. About themselves. About the good 'ol days. It was incredibly interesting and I could listen to these men talk for hours about skiing and Park City's history with skiing. Their speeches gave me a break from the mic that I tend to hog and ramble on relentlessly, and their personal ramblings made me feel a little better about my own. I was relieved to turn the mic back over to my former Ski coach, Bob Marsh, having not botched it too badly and completing my mission: To honor two men who have done so much for so many. I sat down, feeling only slightly pleased with myself.
"Good job, Mom," my daughter Stella said. Bonus.
Then it happened.
Bob began to introduce the Hall of Fame athlete they chose to honor this year. He began to ambiguously and nebulously describe this athlete. Then he started throwing out stats.
"Wait a minute," I thought.
"I was named to that team in 1982..."
"I went to that event in 1984..."
"I was ranked that in 1986...."
Oh. My. Gawd.
It dawned on me and tears rushed out of my eyes as if the building had caught fire and I was the hotel sprinkler system.
He was talking about me.
I was being inducted into the Park City Ski Team Hall of Fame. My legs got hollow and shaky. I felt my skin go sheet white as my daughter pointed her camera at me and started shooting video. One of my PCST teammates and colleagues, Duane Hendrickson, was sitting next to me with a big mischievous grin from ear to ear as if to say, "Gotcha!" in his usual fashion. I was in a room with 40 years of my closest friends (adopted brothers and sisters) who I consider family and there was no hiding. There was no facade. They knew me, and I was not going to be able to fake my way through this one. I was completely blindsided. Bob continued to describe my life, my accomplishments, my struggles. It was surreal. I found out later that my best friend, Andrea, was behind it all. When I went up on stage she was there to present me with a plaque.....which I also tried to assault her with. It was all I had and I was so embarrassed, largely because there are so many that should be honored before me. Maybe the cancer thing moved me up the list because they're not sure I'm gonna make it much longer? Did I forget to tell them that I've beat back the two-headed monster with a really big stick? And that they're stuck with me for a good 20-30 more years barring any sort of stupidity I manage to cultivate? That's gotta be it. Because of all the people in that room, I felt like I was the least-deserving of such an incredible honor, but honored nonetheless.
Suddenly, I'm standing next to John McMillian and Jan Peterson (heavy hitters both) with our Hall of Fame plaques having pictures taken, hugging people I haven't seen in years...It was a huge blur. I had big plans that night to sit with my old PCST buddies, razzing them about exploits long past as we squirt each other with baby squirt guns, and laugh (again) about how Patti had to give us the sex talk. Instead, I was thrust into an epic fog, surrounded by the love of my Park City family, historic players from 40 years of ski racing, shaking hands with all the new people in my PC family's lives that have brought them happiness, children, and in some cases a few extra wrinkles, or a shiny new wife, 20 years too young....ahem. Ski towns... <sigh>
Currently, I am still riding cloud 9 in boots and spurs and singing yeehaw. What an amazing experience. When I was sick in the hospital and bargaining with my maker about what I had to do get out of an early exit, I just wanted to see my kids grow up. I am still hoping for that and I promise that I am happy with JUST that. No more, no less. Everything I am goes into my kids, their school, the sports they do, the time spent showing them the world, and navigating the craziness. With my eyes on their path, I didn't see this coming. I was flanked by my posse in the greatest of ways and I am deeply, and introspectively affected by this amazing experience.
I don't plan on dying anytime soon. I've put way too much effort toward my earthly residence and I'm determined to get my money's worth largely because my husband is the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. This weekend was a friendly reminder of what makes life so worth living although I am a little concerned that they were able to pull this off without so much as a whiff of their devious preparations. I will need to be far more careful in the future around this family of mine! However, I am looking forward to years of retaliation (with love).
