I just finished a weeklong detox/cleansing program that basically entailed giving up caffeine, alcohol, dairy, meat and wheat and subsisting on a diet of brown rice, vegetables, fruit and a bunch of supplements.
To be honest, I’m actually kind of bummed that it worked – now I know I can’t go back to the way I was living before.
A lot of us in ski towns live a double life. By day, we’re these psycho-athletes who came here because there’s an infinite number of ways to challenge ourselves in the Rockies year-round. It seems like everyone is always training for something, striving to up the ante from the last race or expedition. There are always events to train for, uphill races and endurance races, crazy 24-hours of this and 100 miles with 10,000 feet of vertical gain that.
But it’s not at all uncommon to see some of the best athletes in the valley late night at the bar or pressed up against the stage front row at whatever live show happens to be going on, partying like rock stars.
When I lived in Jackson, Wyo., I lasted only one season (they call that a “90-day wonder”) because I couldn’t keep up with the “play hard, party hard” mentality that had me in tram line at 7:30 in the morning after a vicious night of partying until 4 a.m. the night before. By May, I was the strongest I had ever been after hiking up Glory Bowl on Teton Pass every day in April and snowboarding more vertical feet in one season than I had probably ridden in my entire lifetime. But I had gained 10 pounds and that après ski happy hour seemed to start earlier every day. It might have been psychosomatic, but my liver started to hurt. It ached. The demand I was putting on my body, between the partying and long days on the mountain, had taken its toll.
On one backcountry outing, I was on the summit when my board, which had been lying facedown on the wind-scoured snow pack, got blown over and slid down into the middle of the bowl. I hiked carefully down the ridgeline with someone watching me (all of us duly equipped with avalanche transceiver, shovel and probe) and skirted out into the bowl to retrieve the board, having to crawl out on waist-deep snow. It was a stupid risk I probably shouldn’t have been willing to take.
When I made it back to the summit safely, my friend Steve, who has lived in Jackson for almost 20 years and spent innumerous days skiing in the backcountry said, “Dude, you are a serious hazard.” I think I left a week or two later. It wasn’t just about abusing my body anymore. It was also my mind. In terrain where a lapse in judgment (like not securing your board in the snow so it doesn’t blow away, for starters) can be deadly and put others at risk, I was pushing it.
It seems my friends are the same way. The other day, my friend Dana called me after she had just come out of a yoga class. While talking to me, she sort of held her breath and then let out a big, long exhale.
“Are you smoking? After yoga?” I asked.
“Yup,” she replied, with another exhale.
“Detox to retox, huh?” I said. And that really seemed to say it all.
During my detox I learned a few important things. The physical withdrawal from caffeine was almost more than I could bear. I had no idea my addiction was that severe, but now I realize I was drinking between four to eight cups a day between espresso drinks and my morning pot of (very strong) coffee. I’m not sure if it’s the absence of dairy products or wheat, but my skin is totally clear and even-toned, and the dark puffy circles I usually have under my eyes are gone, making me look about 10 years younger. That’s because I’ve been sleeping eight hours every night without waking up at 4 a.m. on the dot, as I normally do.
But the best part is I have boundless energy, (even without the eight cups of coffee) and I notice it the most when I’m out on a long run and don’t feel tired, achy or sore. Or in yoga when, even in a 110-degree studio, my body temperature seems to self-regulate and I don’t get lightheaded or out of breath anymore.
I’m afraid the play hard, party hard philosophy on life may be out the window. If I’m going to ask so much of my body so I can enjoy my life in the mountains, I had better start taking better care of it.
Freelance columnist Alison Berkley can be reached at alison@berkleymedia.com.
