On Top of the World
Time in Range goes skiing at Whistler.
There’s nothing like standing on top of a mountain.
You seem to be on top of the world, looking down into valleys of green cedar trees and snow-capped peaks.
I took a ski trip up to Whistler, B.C., a world-renowned ski resort. The expense of a lift ticket is considerable, so it’s not often that I have the privilege to put two planks on my feet and make my way down groomed slopes of snow. I was bundled up in layers of clothing to fight off the cold and was all geared up with skis, poles and goggles. I took the quad chair up higher and higher, hearing the swish of snowboarders and skiers making their way down the mountain, cutting and carving the slopes. The lift cables rocked back and forth in the biting wind.
As usual, I pushed off the lift platform once I reached the top, steadying myself as I left the safety of the lift, and found myself standing on top of the world. I know they call it seventh heaven, but it is truly breathtaking. I remember the ice crystals like sparkles falling magically from my mouth as my breath froze, and the chill wind that carried them along the snow’s surface, which was smooth and coated with icy dust. It’s strange to look down on other mountains, realizing you’re actually higher than them, seeing pristine snow on their tips, the reflection of sun off their polar caps, and trees descending into the valley. Perhaps this is the delirium of height.
I like skiing. There’s a peace about it. I’m not into extreme skiing and haven’t tried snowboarding yet, and at the time I thought I might someday.
Downhill skiing posed a special problem after I’d prepared to battle the cold and eaten a big breakfast. I had taken the lift up and skied down many times before I suddenly realized I had suddenly lost my ability to ski.
What gives?
What was most strange about wiping out and biting snow is that I blamed it on my skiing ability. I’m not a professional—definitely intermediate—so there were no black diamonds for me. Whistler has double-black diamonds, which meant double-black trouble for me, do I stick mostly to blue and green.
But this particular difficult section was giving me trouble. I would get back up, only to fall again miserably while others skied around me. One guy even stopped to ask if I was all right—of course I was!
Until the obvious dawned on me. I realized I was low.
That explained it. That was what I had forgotten. For a blissful half day, I had actually forgotten about diabetes—and what bliss. But now I was low and needed sugar fast to bring my blood sugar back up to range. I hadn’t eaten enough food, because insulin absorbs faster in an active body, and it never seems enough food to deal with the exercise.
Luckily, I had packed some fruit leather bars for just such an occasion, so I wasn’t too troubled. But it was there, sitting on a snowy slope with skiers and snowboarders flying past me, that I realized that diabetes was something I’d always have to think about, no matter what I did. Diabetes brought me literally crashing back down to earth.
After I’d consumed sugar, I was fine. With rubbery legs I got up and skied the rest of the day, breaking for lunch and realizing by trial and error that skiing took a lot of energy and extra food to enjoy, and a reduction in insulin.
Diabetes has not stopped me from skiing, or from doing anything else, for that matter.
While I don't ski much anymore, I ride my bike, walk and swim to keep active these days.
And as the winter snow and ice melt into Spring, here’s one of my favourite skiing videos. It’s a slow build, but it’s worth a watch. Don’t try this at home kids. Extreme skiing isn’t for the faint of heart. Who needs to pay for a lift ticket? Take the bus uphill!
JP Auclair Street Segment (from Sherpas Cinemas' All.I.Can)
Helpful Advice - Safe Shredding 101 at Whistler
Thank you for reading!
Until next week, dear readers…
