Trapped to free: part 2

When we were in Colorado in 2019, I went adaptive snow skiing for the first time.

On this visit, I knew I wanted to try and fit that in again. Unfortunately, the ski resort I went to last time with the adaptive program was closed for the season. However, after some research we found another adaptive program in Breckenridge, Colo., which was a little over an hour from where we were staying.

It took a bit to get me fitted in the ski chair, but my instructors Molly and John were so patient to make sure it was absolutely a perfect fit and well balanced, which is key. The ski chair is very narrow and snug. I also had a large strap around my chest. I felt very safe and secure.

The thing with adaptive skiing is that you very quickly have to establish an immense amount of trust between you and the ski instructor, who has your safety literally in their hands.

It was only about a 2.5-hour lesson, so everything happened quickly. It wasn’t long before we were on the ski lift taking us to the top of the slopes. Getting on the ski lift in my ski chair is interesting. They had it down to a science though and were a great team.

We started out on the “smaller” slopes, although they were much higher than where I ended after my first time skiing in 2019. Next thing I knew, we were speeding down the slope. She was tethered to my ski chair. At times, she would ski closer into me, and then at other times she would say, “one, two, three on you” then she would separate from my ski chair, the tethers longer (as pictured). I would then put my outriggers down, and she would direct me on which way to turn. I was surprised at how quickly I picked it back up. Turns out, I did remember some of what I had learned six years prior. The movements are very slight. The key is to not overdo anything.

After a few runs, they asked me if I was ready to tackle the larger slope. It was about 11,000 feet in elevation. I asked them if they thought I was ready. They both enthusiastically said, “Absolutely!” I said, “Well, I am here … let’s do it!”

We had to take two different ski lifts to get to the top. My stomach was in knots! I was battling my fear of heights, along with letting some doubt creep in. Molly and John were very good at calming my nerves. They were both such lovely people, and we had some great conversations that took my mind off the scary moments.

Once at the top, she skied me over to our starting point. My jaw dropped. I don’t think I’ve ever witnessed something so beautiful. The view was just out of this world. I felt a very spiritual moment of peace wash over me, and I fought back the tears, although some managed to slip out. They gave me a moment to take it all in, and we snapped a photo so I could remember that moment forever. John agreed that he would get some video clips of us skiing down this final run. She told me it would be much longer than the others. I shook out my hands and wrapped them tightly around my outriggers and said, “I’m ready!”

I could not have prepared myself for the sense of freedom that I would feel. I wish I could bottle that up. For a moment, I was set free from the chains of my disability.

Living with muscular dystrophy, my body feels very heavy all the time. Every task is labored. Imagine living your life with very decreased strength, coupled with heavy weights blanketing your entire body, never getting a break from that. That is the best way I can describe living with MD.

Suddenly, I felt weightless.

The wind in my face felt heavenly, and the sky so blue it didn’t seem real. The tears started to flow, but I had to focus. “One, two, three, on you” – I was doing it!

As we neared the bottom of the slopes, I spotted the most beautiful sight of all. My husband and my boys were there watching for me to come in, cheering me on. It was an emotional moment. My heart felt like it could burst with the love and gratitude I felt for my family in that moment.

We all met up and talked about our time on the mountain. Molly told me she was stunned at how much I learned in such a short time. As if she were reading my mind, she continued on to say, “I am not just saying that either.” She said I accomplished so much in 2.5 hours and did not once fall over, which she said is rare.

I have to admit, I felt proud of myself in that moment. I had given it all I had. My strength tank on empty, my heart on full.

My husband and son lifted me out of my ski chair and into my wheelchair. Saying goodbye to two people I will likely never see again, who made such a profound impact on me, was hard. I hugged them both and thanked them for being such wonderful teachers. They were outstanding in every way.

From starting the trip at such a low, to ending our trip on a high note was fought for by humble courage. I am honored to have such a loving and supportive family who helps me achieve my dreams.

Until next time …

Amy Shinneman is a former National Ambassador for the Muscular Dystrophy Association, disability blogger, wife, and mom of two boys. You can find her blog at humblycourageous.com and reach her on Instagram @ashinneman.