And then she fell – experiencing Vancouver’s ski culture – a beginner’s perspective

It’s where the first ever gold medal was won by a Canadian athlete on home soil almost a year ago.  It’s got great snow, great runs, great facilities and it’s only half an hour from my driveway.  Cypress Mountain had been, until recently, an enigma to me – I knew where it was but had never gone up there.  There was no reason to, because, after all, I am not a skier.    I am the exact opposite of a skier, actually.  If it is possible to be the negative of a skier, that’s me.  I don’t even like being cold.  The only time I previously wore skis was in grade 6 and it ended with me and my sprained ankle being loaded onto a sled and taken away by first aid ski-doo.  And that was flat-land cross country.  So you can imagine the trepidation I felt agreeing to try snowboarding.  But when you have these amazing facilities on your doorstep, it’s stupid not to experience them, right?

When I told my Grandmother my plans she asked sweetly if I was “going snowboarding or snow falling?”  That was not a good sign.  But I’m always up for a challenge, and with good friends, a brave face and a “good luck” A&W hashbrown in my stomach, I was ready to go.  The first thing that greets you at the lodge are the giant lime green Olympic rings which, I swear, are just there to make you feel invincible.  There’s something about seeing them there that suddenly takes over your body and makes you believe that you too are an Olympic caliber athlete.  Clearly this mountain would not accept any less.  And clearly I am totally delusional.  I’m a big believer in that when you look like you know what you’re doing, it helps your performance (see delusional comment above), and once we were all kitted out in our rental gear I honestly thought this couldn’t be nearly as difficult as I’d previously thought. 

Thank God not one of the four of us really had any previous snowboard experience, so we started off the day in the only logical fashion: with a lesson.  It was pretty much us and 100 elementary school kids all learning to swoosh and splat together.  We were the taller ones not wearing neon. It was only when I landed on my knees the first time that my imperviousness started to wane when I discovered that I couldn’t get up gracefully.  It was more like a giraffe trying to drink – ass in the air, knees splayed at odd angles, inner thighs screaming as they attempted to keep the board from flying out from under you and sending you right back to the snow. I’m pretty good at laughing at myself when I tank at something, which turned out to be an invaluable skill.   Two hours later we had mastered the learning hill (six feet of fun with a bench at the top) and I was getting the hang of this snowboarding thing.  There’s still something horribly unnatural to not having your body face in the direction you’re going, and knowing if you try to turn that way, you either stop or fall, but whatever, I was psyched and ready to move up to the big girl hills. 

By big girl hills, I mean the mile long bunny hill.  I’m not that stupid.  To get up there it meant taking my first chair lift, and that was nearly as exciting as the run itself.  It was when we were about halfway up that I remembered that my lesson had not included chairlift instructions.  My boyfriend, who’s lesson had included that important skill, tried his best to talk me through it, but it still ended with me making an ungraceful splat and then trying desperately to crawl out of the way of the incredibly talented 8 year olds who were in the chair behind.  My record for the day ended up at 0 for 4.

Holy crap, this thing looked steep from the top.  Visions of that first aid ski-doo ride started flashing through my head, but I came to snowboard, dammit, I could make it down this hill no problems.  Sometimes being young and stupid works to my advantage.  Face sideways, perfect form… oh shit! I’m going too fast and have no idea how to stop… and I was on my ass in the snow.  I’d made it about fifteen feet.  Now I had been awesome at getting up back on the flats, but when you throw in a 50 degree angle it’s a whole new ball game.  Ten minutes of trying everything I had in my arsenal, including squirming, panting, praying to the Gods of snowboarding and making snow angels (that last part was just to make me feel better.  It was an ugly snow angel with my feet attached together) I had to resort to taking one foot out of the bindings, standing, and buckling myself back in.  Standing back up is the hardest part of snowboarding, hands down.  Take two.  All told, it took me fifteen minutes to get down that hill, complete with two spectacular face plants and a lot of snow stuck in interesting inner places in my gear.  Thankfully, falling didn’t hurt nearly as much as getting up did.

By now I was exhausted.  But the only way to learn something is repetition, so it was back to the chair splat, I mean chair lift.  By the end of the day I was noticeably better, my record was only three falls on the way down, and I was very, very good at taking off and re-fastening my bindings.  I’d only cried once, out of sheer frustration when I fell right at the top of the hill (read: inches before I’d actually started going down it) and had been unable to get up while a kid the size of my right thigh swooshed past me with ease, but that actually turned into my best run of the day, so it had been worth something.   I cannot tell you how much I appreciated flat ground, my running shoes and a hot tea, though.

All told, snowboarding was really fun.  Now I understand why people from all over the world flock to Vancouver just for the mountains, as you can easily head up after a long day at the office and still get a few good runs in before closing.  And it’s conveniently close if you have to be heli-lifted to hospital, so that’s comforting.  I’m not sure if it’s my sport… yet,  I’ll need more practice and the ability to get up and stop without falling (both skills which I’m nowhere near mastering), but I’m not giving up.  Just taking an extended break

Tags: Cyprus Mountain, death, Exercise, falling, fear, fun, skiing, snow, snowboarding, vancouver

Vacation calories do count, but you can survive!

               I’ve been there.  That point in your vacation when you look back on what you’ve consumed and are hit with a wave of guilt and don’t even want to walk past that full-length mirror every hotel room has because you suddenly notice an extra paunch hanging over the top of your bathing suit.  And it sucks.   In my case it usually brings on a mild (okay, maybe not so mild) panic attack and the remainder of my trip’s spent venting to my travel companions just how awful this feels (I’m still apologizing for that).  Consequently, now I’ll do whatever I can to minimize that feeling (and avoid the “oh my God, will she just shut up already?” glares from my family and friends.  What I’m getting at is that too many of us think that because we’re in a new time zone, all the nutrition rules we have to live by on a normal day suddenly don’t apply and let ourselves go.  But with just a little bit of work, it is possible to survive your vacation with your waistline intact, and all without  taking away from your fun.

             This may sound ridiculously simple, but just monitor what you eat.  I’m not saying you can’t have that amazing (and huge) sundae with the glossy red cherry on top, I’m just saying don’t have one every day.  Or don’t have one after your deep-fried meat-of-some-unidentifiable-species with deep-fried-veggies and deep-fried-fries dinner.  It’s the same basic principle you’ve heard a thousand times: try to choose veggies, fruit and anything fresh whenever possible, and avoid anything that, if you ring it out, you can use the drippings to polish your new hardwood with.  I know the breakfast buffet is included in the room rate, but that doesn’t mean you have to personally eat everything they prepared, there are other guests to help with that, too.  Or if you go all out on breaky, have a smaller lunch and dinner.  The same goes for alcohol, too.  I know it’s liberating not to have to be accountable all the time, but six beers and you’ve racked up over a thousand calories, over half your daily target without your body even knowing it.  Moderation, people, moderation! 

              Regardless of how angelic your eating habits may be, if you’re doing nothing but lounging around like Jabba the Hut all day you’re gonna end up looking like, well, Jabba the Hut.  You have to move it to loose it.  Don’t worry, I’m not going to launch into some complex eighteen-step workout plan that you can do daily in your hotel room with only some minor equipment that you have to haul from home.  With luggage allowances being what they are, no one is going to haul your own set of dumbells and an elliptical trainer through security, and any article that suggests it is totally full of crap.  If you can’t get it in destination, it’s not worth it.    But this is where the simple fact that you’re on vacation actually helps with your exercise plan.

                Personally, I’m not a lie-on-the-beach-all-day-and-turn-over-at-regualr-intervals kind of girl.  Not only am I too pale for that much sun, but I also have the attention span of a gerbil.  Consequently, from the time I set down in a new city, I’m on the go, wanting to see everything this exciting place has to offer.  This translates into a hell of a lot of walking.  Be it walking around a museum or zoo or shopping mall or just walking because I’m too cheap to pay for a taxi for that short distance, I’m constantly on the move.  Unless you have a very active job back home, for most of us this translates into more movement than we normally do at our desk jobs and equals calories burned without actually having to think about it.  I had one client recently asking me to book him a room at a Cancun all-inclusive resort as far away from the buffet as possible to help him stop all the extra snack runs.  Or, as he said, at least burn some extra calories walking there.  This same client also thanked me for the gym membership he had to get to burn off what he consumed on his last holiday, but that’s beyond the point.  Make sure you wear comfortable shoes and you’ll find you don’t even notice the extra ten minutes it takes you to hoof it, but your body will.

                  Many hotels, resorts and cruise ships have gyms, but do you really think you’re going to get up early to squeeze in a thrty-minute cardio session before your jungle tour after staying up a little too late last night?  Me neither.  But if that tour includes a hiking component, your workout is taken care of for you.  Or if you go into the ocean/pool and actually swim (enough to get your heart rate up) instead of just bobbing like a cost guard buoy, you’re good to go.  If activity can’t be included in your busy day, this is where it’s time to get creative.  Do some lunges or squats while waiting for your turn to use the shower in the morning.  Find the music video channel on the TV and dance around like an idiot (who’s watching?  Your spouse has seen it before.  Or better yet, have them dance with you).  Have lots and lots of sex.  Lift your carry-on bags as dumbells.   Run the stairs up from the lobby every time you get back to the hotel.  Personally, I’m fond of the dance around like an idiot option, and if you’re ever in Costa Rica, I strongly suggest Telehit, the Spanish pop is awesome!

             See?  That’s not so bad, is it?  All you have to do is remember not to overeat on the things that you wouldn’t touch without crippling guilt at home and get your blood pumping in some way daily, and you should be good to go.  I’d never say you’re going to loose weight this way – hell, it is your vacation, you’re going to eat the fun stuff – but it can keep you from gaining, so you get home at least in the same shape you were in before (buh-bye, Jabba the Hut).   Don’t forget, it takes 3500 extra calories (or an extra 500 calories a day) to gain one pound of fat, so a little indulgence is not going to kill you.   But neither will a half-hour of beach volleyball :)

Tags: BlogSherpa, calories, Costa Rica, dancing, diet, Exercise, gym, pool, Telehit, vacation, weight