Life Lessons From the Ski Slopes
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Facing Fears, Letting Go, and Breathing
What if the thing you’re most afraid of… is the exact mountain you were meant to ski?
Welcome back to Be a Warrior. I’m Angie Heuser — above knee amputee, equine therapy lover, skier, and someone who refuses to live life from the sidelines. And if you’ve been following me the past several weeks, you know we’ve been diving deep into the energy of the Year of the Fire Horse — a year of movement, momentum, fearless expansion, courage, and decisive action.
But before the fire horse came the snake.
And I can’t stop thinking about that metaphor.
The Year of the Snake ended February 16th — a year of shedding. And if you’ve ever seen a snakeskin left behind, you know it’s both fascinating and a little unsettling. Snakes don’t just slip out of their skin like changing clothes. They rub up against rough surfaces. They press into discomfort. Sometimes it takes extra effort around the face or certain tight spots to fully shed what no longer fits.
It’s not gentle.
And neither is growth.
When I think about amputee life — about losing a limb, whether by trauma, illness, or in my case, elective amputation after years of surgeries — there is so much shedding. Shedding fear of the unknown. Shedding anger. Shedding grief. Shedding the identity we once had. And it doesn’t happen smoothly. It happens against the rough edges of life.
But once the shedding is done?
The new skin is ready to grow.
And that’s where the Fire Horse comes in.
This year only happens every sixty years — the Horse combined with the element of Fire. It’s bold. It’s fast. It rewards courage. It exposes comfort. It does not tolerate stagnation. And if you’ve built your life around playing small, it’s going to make you very uncomfortable.
Which brings me to the ski slopes.
If you follow me online, you saw we were just in Park City. I’ve been skiing since I was seventeen — long before amputation. But I’ll tell you something honestly: there isn’t a single day I clip into my ski that I don’t feel fear.
Even now.
Especially now.
Three months after my amputation in 2018, I got back on the slopes. I had already missed five years of skiing due to surgeries. I had told my husband if I didn’t ski that April, I might never do it again. So I did it scared. I did it sick to my stomach. I did it unsure.
And here’s what skiing has taught me — lessons that mirror life perfectly.
First: the person in front of you has the right of way.
On the mountain, it’s your responsibility to avoid the skier ahead of you. What’s behind you? That’s their responsibility.
Isn’t that life?
If I constantly look behind me — at my past, my trauma, my failures — I lose balance. Literally. With one leg, if I look back, I fall. And metaphorically? Same thing. If I live looking backward, I miss the beauty and the hazards in front of me.
That doesn’t mean I ignore the past. I learn from it. I listen. I stay aware. But I don’t let it dictate my line down the mountain.
Second: you will face forks in the slope.
Left might be safe. Right might be steep. Green or black diamond. Easy or challenging.
Comfort or growth.
The Fire Horse energy says choose courage. Choose the line that stretches you. And I had that moment on this trip — two blue runs splitting off, one steeper than the other. I heard myself say, “Just go.”
So I did.
I picked up speed. I carved hard. I pushed myself. And eventually, my leg gave out and I ended up on my butt. Not a dramatic crash — more of a tired surrender.
Take five and reassess your path every now and then
But here’s the thing: I was proud of that fall.
Because if I’m not falling occasionally, I’m not pushing hard enough. Growth requires risk. Risk requires vulnerability. And vulnerability sometimes ends with snow in your face.
Warriors aren’t built in comfort.
They’re built in the steep sections.
Third: breathe.
One of the biggest lessons my ski instructors taught me after amputation was breathing rhythm. As I carve down the mountain, I exhale into the turn and inhale as I rise. The mountain becomes a rhythm — breathe in, breathe out.
When I hold my breath, I tense up. When I tense up, I rely too much on my upper body. When I breathe, I find flow.
How often in life do we grit our teeth and forget to breathe?
When we breathe through discomfort, we release tension. We think clearly. We stay grounded. Whether you’re walking in a prosthetic, stepping into a hard conversation, or heading into an interview — breathe.
Finally: visualize the run.
I watched Olympic skiers at the top of the mountain, eyes closed, moving their bodies as they mentally rehearsed every turn. They had already succeeded in their minds before pushing off.
That’s not luck. That’s preparation.
If you only visualize falling, you’ll hesitate. If you only picture failure, you’ll create it. But if you visualize walking confidently in your prosthesis… if you visualize that difficult conversation going well… if you see yourself succeeding — you are building neural pathways toward that outcome.
Will you still fall sometimes? Yes.
But falling isn’t failure. It’s feedback.
The Fire Horse doesn’t reward perfection. It rewards courage. It rewards action. It rewards getting uncomfortable.
I came home from those mountains thinking about all of you. About the warriors who are afraid to let that bold part of themselves out because it might mean discomfort. It might mean risk. It might mean exposing the places you’ve been playing small.
But that’s where grit is forged.
That’s where character is polished.
That’s where life gets amplified.
So here’s my call to action:
Do the thing that scares you this week. Maybe in baby steps. Maybe messy. Maybe imperfect. But do it.
If you fall, smile. Ask yourself what you just learned. Visualize the next attempt. Breathe. Adjust your line. And go again.
Stop waiting for the perfect mood, the perfect date, the perfect version of yourself.
The mountain is here. YOUR mountain!
Embrace it, charge forward!
The Fire Horse energy is here.
And you, warrior, are more capable than you think.
Have a be-YOU-tiful week ahead and as always,
Be healthy.
Be happy.
Be YOU!!!
Much love,
