Amy Reinink

Guess what, guess what, guess what? The 2013-2014 ski season is here!

For me, it started the day after Thanksgiving, with my first ski-patrol shift at Gore Mountain in North Creek, N.Y., where I spent the day trying to wrap my brain around new trail names, new equipment and lots of new names and faces.

I spent an equal amount of time rejoicing that my favorite parts of skiing and ski patrolling are the same everywhere: The joy of getting first tracks before anyone else is on the mountain; the freedom borne of setting the edge of your ski into the snow and riding it into the wind; the instantaneous sense of family found even on Day 1 with a new patrol, the beauty of sunset creating alpenglow at the day’s end.

We had so much fun on Friday, we went back for more on Sunday. And thanks to my leaving my cell phone at the mountain on Sunday, I got a few more runs in on Tuesday (what, you think I’m going to drive an hour to a ski resort to get a phone and NOT go skiing?).

Having the first few ski days of the season under my (patrol) belt is especially notable this year because of the fear I carried onto the slopes with me after suffering random, season-ending injuries the past few winters.

Thankfully, that all fell away when I made my first turn. It was just me and the mountain—pure motion and peace, with no thoughts or fears or hang-ups holding me back.

I was flipping through the latest issue of Runner’s World before I fell asleep last night when I came upon a question that captured my curiosity. The question, in Jeff Galloway’s “Starting Line” column: “I want a running-related goal that isn’t tied to racing. Suggestions?”

“Yeah,” I said out loud to no one in particular. (Steve was traveling, and I don’t have a pet. Don’t judge me.)

Setting time goals for races just hasn’t turned me on for a while. Still, running without any sort of goal has left me feeling a little bit moorless.

Galloway suggests setting frequency-based goals (15 days a month), or long-term goals such as running in a National Park in each state. Others lengthen their longest weekly run.

The latter appealed to me, but mostly because the running group I joined immediately upon moving to Saratoga Springs now runs 7 miles every Wednesday night (a lot for a weeknight, no?). So this is my new goal: If I run the whole distance on Wednesday nights, I can treat myself to a post-run treat at Olde Saratoga Brewing Co., where the run starts and ends.

I already run three days a week on a pretty regular basis, so I’m coming up short on other non-racing-based goals. Ideas? I’m all ears!

Whew!

Sorry I’ve gone missing in the past few weeks. In addition to some new work projects that have kept me busy in the 9-to-5 sense, I am now serving as the head instructor for an OEC (ski-patrol medical) class in our area—a task that is equal parts inspiring and exhausting. So rather than writing about all the cool and interesting experiences I’ve been having on the trails and on the slopes (no snow yet, but it won’t be long!), I’ve been putting together slide presentations and skill sessions for that class. Like I said: Inspiring and exhausting.

Now that I’ve managed to carve out a few extra minutes, I want to share an experience I had at the ski-patrol refresher at Gore, where we will be patrolling this winter.

Everyone at the day-long training session was warm and welcoming. But I felt a special sense of inclusion from the other women patrollers, most of whom made a special point of introducing themselves and welcoming me to the mountain. In one instance, a brief introduction led to a long, impassioned discussion about how giving young girls the opportunity to play outside can change the world.

It left me with a warm, fuzzy feeling, and the sense that we may be approaching a sort of tipping point in the world of women’s participation in outdoor and adventure sports. Sure, we’re still a minority. But all over the place, I see signs of progress. At a screening of this year’s Warren Miller movie, Ticket to Ride, last Saturday, I was thrilled to see multiple scenes featuring only female skiers—not just scenes with a token girl skiing in a sea of dudes. There are big-mountain ski camps geared exclusively toward women, such as the one pro skier Ingrid Backstrom holds in Chile every summer (anyone wanna sponsor my attendance there?).

Organizations such as She Jumps are encouraging women and girls to get outside and play. And then there’s She Jumps founder Lynsey Dyer’s all-female ski movie. I’m inspired every time I watch the trailer, which is set to a song whose lyrics ask: “Have I ever really helped/anybody but myself/to believe in the power of songs/to believe in the power of girls?”

That new OEC class I’m teaching has several girls and young women in it. Who knows—maybe simply by believing in their power, I can help push us closer to that tipping point.

“If something looked inspiring or exciting, I would take note of that. And right behind that, the fear would come. And I would let it come. … Then, I would look back up at the mountain. If that even hint of excitement was still there, I would go and do it. And that has served me well.” — Professional freeskier Lynsey Dyer, during her wonderful TEDX talk about ‘extreme’ skiing

The screams from the stairwell were chilling, like a haunted house set up a couple of weeks before Halloween. Low and guttural, if you told me they came from a zombie staggering out of the grave, I would have believed you.

In actuality, they came from a practice patient in an advanced OEC (ski-patrol medical) clinic I took last weekend. The “patient,” another student’s husband, was told to pretend he had a broken femur, and it was my job to safely extricate him from the stairwell.

It was the first of many scenarios that day. It was also the first of several times that day that my brain went into overdrive, trying to find an answer amid a chorus of panicked expletives from my invisible terrible someone.

It was terrible, and humbling. It was also the best thing I could have done, and it made me a better patroller. Maybe even a better person, in that it reminded me that when you do things that force you to cut through the chatter and panic and other B.S. in your head, you sometimes find a calm confidence you didn’t even know you had.

If you’re curious about the outcome of the femur: The extrication didn’t go as smoothly as I’d hoped. But I got through it, and when I see that injury in real life, I know I’ll be able to handle it—maybe even with a quiet confidence I didn’t have before.

Have you done anything lately that scared you? How did it go?

Saturday night found me looking at the sky in awe.

Bright red and yellow leaves floated down from the maples and oaks surrounding us as dusk fell, illuminating the sky like falling stars.

“Sometimes, the seasons pass without me even noticing,” said Margaret, my camping buddy for the weekend, as she gazed at the trees above us. “You know?”

Yes. I know. Trips like this are our ammunition against time flying by unnoticed. Watching autumn leaves fall to the ground is a portal into the timeless, the purest form of meditation possible.

Leaf-peeping on the hike up Cascade Mountain.

We’d spent the day hiking to the top of Cascade Mountain, our first Adirondack high peak. There are 46 high peaks total, and folks who bag all 46 Adirondack peaks higher than 4,000 feet call themselves “46ers.”

Pondering the view from the summit of Cascade Mountain.

We arrived back at our tent feeling spent but exhilarated, ready for what the next day would bring.

I braced myself against a rock for this summit-celebration shot.

As it turned out, the next day brought adventure in the form of hurricane-force winds on the summit of Wright Peak, our second high peak. The gusts were strong enough to knock a person over, so we half-walked, half-crawled to the summit, where we quickly hung onto a rock for support. It was another kind of meditation: You know that if your mind starts to wander, you might not make it back down in one piece.

The climb up Wright Peak required unwavering focus.

After a soggy hike downhill, we headed back home. Hikes like the ones above make views like the one below, spotted near the town of Keene on the ride back to Saratoga Springs, even sweeter.

A month ago, I announced I’d be partaking in the NOFA-NY Locavore Challenge, an imperative from the Northeast Organic Farming Association of New York to inspire awareness and action in eating locally and organically. Here’s how I did:

I made my own yogurt from local, organic milk. Not only did I do it once—I now make a weekly batch of yogurt from a half-gallon of Stewart’s reduced-fat milk. It has quickly become a staple of my diet.

I got serious about canning. Earlier in the summer, I canned a few small batches of salsa and blueberries. Last month, as part of the challenge, I took a canning class through Cornell Cooperative Extension of Saratoga County, and got serious about squirreling away local, in-season fruits and veggies for winter.

As part of that effort, I visited Hand Melon Farm’s you-pick vegetable fields. I left with a bushel of squash, eggplant, tomatoes and peppers, plus a few pounds of raspberries, for $19.

I made my own bread with local organic grain.

This was the most transformative part of the challenge for me. Who knew you could even *purchase* local organic grain?  I thought this would be difficult to find, but in fact, it was as simple as wandering down the baking aisle of Healthy Living.

So on Sept. 30, the last day of the challenge, I whipped up some dough with my new purple Kitchen Aid stand mixer (thanks to the Kitchen Aid outlet offering refurbished mixers online; thanks to Marie Schrader for bringing purple back).

We ate the results with some Saratoga Olive Oil as part of dinner last night. It disappeared too quickly to photograph the evidence.

So not only was the challenge fun and interesting, it really did open my eyes to the amazing array of local foods available here. And, like any good challenge, it made me excited to seek other, similar challenges in the future.

Last Wednesday’s speed workout with Saratoga Stryders was a doozy.

1X 400 warmup

2X 400 at mile race pace

4X 800 at interval pace

2X 400 at mile race pace

With a 400 easy after each hard effort, it added up to nearly six miles. By the second 800, everyone in my pace group looked dazed and exhausted. As we finished the last 400, one of my running buddies sighed, “Well, that’s a good one to have in the books.”

That’s the beauty of doing hard workouts: We get race-day confidence by having them in the books. I experienced that first-hand on Sunday morning, at the Help a Homeless Veteran 5K in Saratoga Spa State Park. It was hilly, and I hadn’t raced a 5K in longer than I can remember, so I wasn’t sure what to expect, time-wise. I did know, courtesy of workouts like the one above, that I could hold on to tempo pace for quite a while, so I focused on staying steady on the uphills and pushing hard on the flats.

Post-race at the Help a Homeless Veteran 5K at Saratoga Spa State Park Sept. 29, 2013.

I crossed the finish line in 27:10, or 8:48-minute miles. It didn’t break any records, personal or otherwise, but I felt strong at the finish—like maybe I could push harder next time, knowing that effort is in the books.

A few months ago, I was listening to an NPR podcast about CrossFit when a trainer who was being interviewed on the show said something that stopped me in my tracks. 

He said it’s important to differentiate between fitness and wellness, and to realize that the former doesn’t guarantee the latter. 

“Ooh,” I thought. “He’s got my number.”

It struck a chord with me because in the past, I’ve been guilty of assuming that wellness will naturally come through fitness. Or, worse, of forsaking wellness for fitness. 

An example: In March 2009, I ran the National Half Marathon in Washington, D.C., in 1:49,  a smoking-fast pace for me. I was as fit as I’ll ever be, thanks to months of intense training. But here’s the thing: I trained so hard, and was such an uncompromising perfectionist, I skipped a lot of stuff that would have contributed to my overall wellness, to include trips to wineries with friends, and even a ski trip to Tahoe.  Focusing so single-mindedly on a time goal meant I achieved that goal at the expense of almost everything else.

After finishing the National Half Marathon.

Fast-forward four years, and my training schedule probably doesn’t look drastically different to an outsider. I’m still running and swimming and skiing and lifting. But my internal motivation is, happily, drastically different. Rather than set my sights on an external goal—a half-marathon time, a jeans size, etc.—I’m now living in accordance with my values and letting the external markers fall where they may. I meditate regularly. I am kinder to myself.

Read more about how I’m working on wellness by heading over to Near and Far Montana, where you’ll find this as a guest post on my lovely writer-friend Jenn’s blog.

There’s an old SKI magazine clipping hanging in Whitetail’s ski-patrol boot room that describes why being a ski patroller is such a wonderful job.

It talks about your ski boots being your work boots, about being the first on the hill and the last off, and about how you know your mountain so well, you could practically ski it blindfolded, still hitting the kicker at the bottom of your favorite run.

I was reminded of that clipping this past week, as I played tour guide to my mom while she visited me in my new home, which my runs and swims and other outdoor explorations have enabled me to take ownership of.

We went to Saratoga Spa State Park, where I proudly introduced her to my running group, and to the trails I’ve fallen in love with.

We ate a picnic lunch at Lake George, where I reminisced about my 5K open-water swim adventure as the waves lapped the shoreline.

The view from our picnic lunch.

We hiked above the lake, too.

And we toured the Finger Lakes region, where I started daydreaming about next summer’s open-water swimming adventures.

View of Seneca Lake from Standing Stone Vineyards.

Is it just the Finger Lakes Riesling talking, or should I try to swim across this thing?

As usual, my adventures and explorations have left me hungry for more. Now, I’m just looking forward to ski season—I’m sure Gore has some great kickers to begin to memorize.

It’s the most! Wonderful! Time! Of! The year!

Ski season is almost here!

Two weekends ago, we had our annual instructor refresher for OEC, or outdoor emergency care—ski-patrol medical. We practiced our skills on each other, on practice patients, and even on a manikin that had a pulse and respirations; reactive pupils; and lips and nails that turned blue when he got too cold.

All that means one thing: It’s time to start my pre-ski workouts. I lucked out last year, when a trainer at our gym in Virginia Beach devised a workout designed to get our legs ready to perform on the slopes.

Anyone who’s followed this blog for more than a minute knows injury prevention is near and dear to my heart. Studies have shown that female athletes may be more susceptible to ACL tears than their male counterparts.

According to Christy Barth, the organizer of the Boulder Center for Sports Medicine’s “Girls Can Jump” program, female athletes need to work on explosive movements, involving power, strength, and speed. “Plyometrics such as single-leg hops, and forward and backward legs hops over cones, completed with focus on the critical execution of landing correctly, can significantly increase the stabilization of the knee,” she told SKI magazine. Barth also told SKI that female posture and body alignment, flexibility, muscle firing patterns, speed of muscle contractions, knee and leg asymmetry, possible quadriceps dominance, and core strength could all be factors in ACL tears.

I’m determined to do everything I can to keep my legs healthy and strong to protect my healthy knees. My workouts are a weapon in this fight. Here’s one that incorporates most of my favorite exercises.

Warm-up:

5-10 minutes of cardio: rowing or running

1 minute Side-skater jumps (jump from one foot to the other)

1 minute squats, without weight

Set No. 1:

10 Rotational jump squats (squat; jump in the air, twisting 180 degrees to land facing the opposite direction; repeat)

10 box jumps

10 squats, with bar

Set No. 2:

10 side skater jumps, with side squat after each landing

10 side lunges with dumbbell (the idea here is to put the dumbbell down each time you squat, then squat a little lower to pick it up again)

Split jumps (do a lunge; jump in the air to switch legs)

Set No. 3:

10 deadlifts

20 hamstring curls on TRX (you can use a stability ball if you don’t have access to TRX straps)

Back extension in Russian chair, with weight (I use a 50-pound kettlebell and do as many reps as I can with good form—sometimes 10, sometimes six)

Set No. 4:

10 BOSU squats with weight (with that same 50-pound kettlebell)

10 pistol squats on BOSU (I use TRX straps to help me balance)

Lateral box jumps – 10 on each side