Travelling as much as I have been every winter cuts into writing time significantly. Obviously a person can’t write while driving, and I have found I really can’t dictate much more than a reminder here and there. Once I got back to Santa Fe, I had one day and then I was on a plane to Dallas to watch the grandboys while my daughter was in New York filming content with Samsung. I have been lucky to spend time with the three Texas boys over the past seven years. For a while after the twins were born, Scot was in Dallas visiting EVERY MONTH. At the time we thought it was excessive, but in retrospect, maybe he knew his time with them was limited.

Now I get to see the kids maybe every three months or so. We fight like cats and dogs, but I love them to bits. They are at that stage where I will ask them to do some simple task and they look me in the eye and say, “No.” and then wait to see how I will react. Part of me is laughing inside—they are so like their mom. Sheesh, kids nowadays.

I got back to Santa Fe and to the blissful quiet of a single person’s life. I found where the pickleball players were holding court, and began playing, knowing the Senior Olympics were coming up. I had signed up with no partner, hoping someone else would be solo. I lucked out and a guy whose partner broke her hand (not so lucky) needed a partner, and clearly he was not picky. We practiced a few times and have yet to play any matches.

I went to the Genoveva Chavez Community Center, about a mile from my house. I found my women’s doubles partner playing pickup pickleball at the Center. Cindy was recovering from knee surgery, I had my hip recovery, and she had two rotator cuff injuries. Ah, the beauty of being old and playing ball.

The day before the Santa Fe Senior Olympic Pickleball tournament, I got to the Center early and played an hour and a half, then Cindy came. We had time for one pickup game to 11. We lost. That was the extent of our practice. A glutton for punishment, I played tennis at the Santa Fe Racquet and Swim club later that same day. It was a drill with coach Ralph feeding us balls. A good friend from the Kooks writing group played, too.

It was embarrassing—anyone who plays pickleball and then switches to tennis knows the racquet sweet spot is not in the same place… I whiffed several times. But my net game was not too bad. It was a lot of exercise in one day for an old coot like me.

That night I thought playing a couple hours of pickleball and an hour and a half of tennis in one day was maybe not the smartest thing to do, given the potential for stiff muscles. But I woke up with no more aches and pains than a couple Advil and Tylenol couldn’t handle. I fully expected to play a couple of games and come home by 10:30 am.

I had never done Senior Olympics before. I figured it would be a great way to meet people. I was right about that. My mixed doubles partner had grown up in Santa Fe and it seemed like he was related to half the people playing and attending that day–his sister, sister-in-law, cousin, brother-in-law—I probably missed a few. It was loads of fun. He was the oldest of eight, I am the youngest of eight siblings. It’s similar when I go back to Montana; it seems like I’m related to half the town. It is one of the things I love about Santa Fe. It’s a city with a small-town feel.

Cindy and I lost the first match, went into the consolation bracket and won, won, won! We lost in the finals to an 81-year-old and a 73-year-old. Go figure.

I was pooped. It was several hours longer than I thought it was going to be. I went home, showered, and planned on vegging. Then friends from out of town called and I met them for dinner on the Plaza. It was precisely why I moved to Santa Fe, to have friends drop in. That never happened in Minnesota.

My reprieve was coming to an end. I had plans to drive back to Dallas to see the solar eclipse. And I had to write my blog, and work on insurance claim paperwork. I had hoped to get one more day of skiing in, but I also knew I had to put together the expenses I incurred when my truck was hit so my insurance could go after the resort to make me more whole. I hated to even think about the truck debacle, it made me so upset.

So I missed the day I had planned on skiing, but I got a lot of work done! Not only the expense receipts and paperwork, but I was able to take care of a cracked windshield claim. I was working on transferring my insurance to New Mexico. I had just electronically signed the new auto insurance, thinking the premium difference was only a few dollars, and realized I misread the policy. The new insurance was for six months, and I was comparing it to my 12-month Minnesota policy. Yikes! That’s what happens when a person is tired at the end of a long paperwork day.

After all that, I decided I would ski one more day…Thursday at Ski Santa Fe. I had already put most of my gear away, but I knew it would be the last chance.  I woke early and loaded up. It was a bluebird day. I didn’t know anyone who was going up, but I sent an email to Steven from the Newcomers Club, just in case someone else was going to go.

The road to Ski Santa Fe is one of the windiest (as in most curves) 15 miles I have ever driven, except for maybe the Beartooth Pass outside of Red Lodge, Montana. I met a guy on the chair who said it had 134 curves. There’s no other ski resort that I can think of that has as challenging an approach as this. In addition to the 134 curves, it goes from 7000 feet in Santa Fe to the base of the ski area of 10350.  There are no high-speed chairlifts, so a person has a lot of time to chat. And the two highest peaks are over 12000 feet.

The first guy I parked next to was Steve from the Newcomers Club!! Go figure! We skied together until noon. One of the most beautiful, sunny days, fabulous groomers, hardly any people.

My hip felt great. The mountain was friendly—nothing unexpected, no violent crashes, no blinding snow. It was the perfect ending to a strange, wonderful, angst-filled Solo Ski Sojourn 5.

I love Santa Fe!

Solo Ski Sojourn 5 Stats

Total Miles: 3327.6, 19 mpg, 68:29 hours of driving

Total vertical feet (4 days no tracking, at least 7500/day=30000 vert not tracked). Estimated total vertical, 183,606 ft.

Total number of resorts: 10: Afton Alps, Ski Santa Fe, Winter Park, Copper Mountain, Keystone, Snowbasin, Solitude, Palisades, Heavenly, Sierra at Tahoe

People along the way:

• Mari Baca, Paul, Paul’s friend @ Ski Santa Fe, NM
• Dana & Steve Harrison @ Winter Park, CO
• Kimi Cook & Rob Kortum @ Grand Lake, CO
• Mo McCullough @ Frisco, CO
• T Lee @ Copper Mountain, CO
• Fred & Ellen Caruso @ Eagle, CO
• Linda Sharpe, Cathy Blinken, Bettie Ball & the entire PSIA Women’s Summit group! @ Solitude, UT
• Gina Szafraniec, Susan DeHoog, Ann McGuire, Peggy Erickson, Jodi Milburn, Cathy Blinken, Linda Sharpe (Skijourn Sisters); Dee Byrne, Carol Levine, Julie Matisse @ Palisades, CA
• Karolyn & Tom MacDiarmid Donahue @ South Lake Tahoe, CA
• Carol Koyama MacDiarmid @ Elk Grove, CA
• Steve Venturoni @ Ski Santa Fe, NM

Total number of highway accidents seen or heard of: 3 on the interstate blocking traffic; one reported by a nephew at Taos, NM where he had to pull a person out who drove off a cliff and rolled; and finally, one snowblower fight where I seem to be losing.

Best place to stay: Mo’s Townhouse in Frisco, Colorado

Worst place to stay: Olympic Valley Inn, not because of the rooms, but the truck debacle.

Windiest (most curves) road to resort: Ski Santa Fe

Best Skiing: last Day at Santa Fe

Worst Skiing There wasn’t a worst.

Apps that helped me: Open Snow Weather App, Ski Tracks, Highway Weather, Gas Buddy to find cheapest gas, 511 state DOT apps for road reports.

Audio books listened to:

• The Imperial Cruise, James Bradley
• Everything I Learned, I Learned in a Chinese Restaurant, Curtis Chin
• Minor Feelings, Cathy Park Hong
• A World of Curiosities, Louise Penny
• Copy Desk Murders, Newell Searle (author is a friend of mine from Cargill. First Novel, SOOO good!)
• Yellowface, R.F. Kuang

Best Spotify playlist: The Cranberries

Biggest Surprise: Snowbasin

Biggest disappointment: Olympic Valley Inn at Lake Tahoe, California

What Next?

Fourteen months ago I tore my gastroc muscle. Eleven months ago I had hip replacement surgery. Thirty three years ago I had a cesarean section. Thirty two years ago I had colon cancer resection surgery. A year later I had a bowel blockage and had to have another abdominal surgery. I was lucky. I recovered 100% from each one of those major events. It’s highly likely that in the next ten years I will have more major health events—knee, back, whatever…

My point is that life as we know it will change, there will be obstacles placed before us that we will have to climb over, go around, or push aside. Or stop.

The past five years were unplanned, unexpected, unforeseen. As I sit in my little Santa Fe casa, I wonder. I reflect. I have a quiet moment of gratitude.

And then reality sets in. I have a mysterious water leak. I went from using 200 gallons of water in a week to 2000 gallons in two days.

Who has time to reflect?? I gotta take care of daily living.

No one ever said it was going to be easy.