courage over comfort – Be-YOU-tiful Adaptive Warrior

Life Lessons From the Ski Slopes

By bawarrior | February 25, 2026

Podcast: Play in new window | Download (Duration: 30:39 — 33.2MB)

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,

What’s your “mountain”?

Courage, Authenticity, and Decisive Action for Amputees

By bawarrior | February 11, 2026

Podcast: Play in new window | Download (Duration: 32:02 — 35.1MB)

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Year of the Fire Horse Part 4 Embrace Courage and Move Forward

There comes a moment when life asks you a hard question: Are you ready to stop waiting and start leading your own life? Not tomorrow. Not when things feel easier. But now—right where you are, exactly as you are. That’s the space this episode lives in. And as we stand on the edge of the Year of the Fire Horse, that question feels louder, bolder, and impossible to ignore.

As we move closer to February 17th, the official start of the Year of the Fire Horse, I wanted to pause, breathe, and prepare—for myself and for you. Because this year carries a rare combination of energy and power that only comes once every sixty years. And if we’re ready for it, it can change everything.

I’ll be honest: I don’t typically follow the Chinese calendar. I’m a Christian, and my faith anchors me. But if you put a horse anywhere near my path, I pay attention. Horses transformed my life after amputation, which is why I pursued my equine therapy certification. I believe deeply in their power—movement, intuition, strength—and I believe this year invites us to embody those same qualities. This isn’t about superstition. It’s about preparation, intention, and courage.

Ole Ben, loves quiet time!

Me and my girl, Sakari. She is my Soul Horse!

This episode is part of a series designed to help you step into this new year with clarity and confidence. Over the past few weeks, we’ve talked about movement, momentum, fearless expansion, and the shift from waiting to leading. Because waiting—especially as an amputee—can quietly become a habit. We tell ourselves we’ll start when the pain eases, when our body feels better, when life calms down. And while rest is sometimes necessary, waiting can also keep us stuck.

Quiet Energy…

…And silliness!

I speak from experience. I’ve been an amputee for seven years now, and this is season six of the podcast. That first year after my amputation, I set goals and attacked them with everything I had. I was done letting life pass me by. I learned quickly that growth doesn’t happen by sitting back—it happens by stepping forward, even when it’s uncomfortable.

This week, we dive into three essential pillars: courage, authenticity, and decisive action. Because dreams without plans stay dreams. Saying “I want to walk better” or “I want to feel stronger” means nothing if we don’t define what that looks like. Decisive action requires clarity. It requires writing things down. Being specific. Holding ourselves accountable.

Finding the determination and taking action despite how you feel is courageous!

For me, that clarity began before my amputation. I created a vision board months before surgery—photos of my family, Bible verses, meaningful quotes, and images of the life I wanted to return to. Skiing. Movement. Strength. That board sat next to my bed for four months, reminding me daily that I am more than my body. That I am more than what was being taken from me. And that belief carried me forward.

My Vision Board

But belief alone isn’t enough. Action matters. And action, as an amputee, is complicated. Learning to walk again isn’t just physical—it’s emotional, mental, and exhausting. Trusting a prosthetic leg takes time. Wearing it can feel heavy, claustrophobic, painful. Some days, seven years later, I still struggle. And I share that because authenticity matters. This journey isn’t linear, and pretending otherwise helps no one.

One of the tools that helped me most was creating “carrots”—clear motivators that pulled me forward. For me, that came in the form of virtual races. Not because I needed to run, but because I needed a reason to move. Walking, rowing, swimming, chair yoga—movement in any form counts. Since my amputation, I’ve completed over twenty virtual challenges, some as long as 175 miles. Not to compete with anyone else—but to be better than I was yesterday.

SOME of my virtual races- all completed AFTER amputation! My motivation!

That’s the heart of this episode. You are not competing with anyone but yourself. Comparison steals joy. Progress—no matter how small—builds momentum. Some days, progress looks like wearing your leg for two hours instead of none. Some days, it looks like standing instead of sitting. Some days, it looks like crying and still choosing not to quit.

Courage doesn’t mean fear disappears. I’m scared sometimes—scared to fall, scared to trust my body, scared to push too far. But courage is choosing to move anyway. Authenticity is honoring the hard days without surrendering to them. And decisive action is committing to your life, even when it’s uncomfortable.

I close this episode with a call to action that’s simple—but powerful. Find a quiet place this week. No distractions. No to-do lists. Breathe. And picture your life twelve months from now. How does your body feel? How do you move? What are you proud of? Then write it down—and work backward to create small steps toward your goals. That’s how transformation happens.

The Year of the Fire Horse is not a year to sit back. It’s a year to lead, to grow, to fall and rise again. And you don’t have to do it alone. No matter where you are in your journey—new amputee, seasoned warrior, or someone simply struggling with life—I’m here. Let’s walk this together.

If you are interested in joining me, virtually, on this Year of the Fire Horse challenge you can sign up here

Use the discount code JOLLY and receive 30% off your registration!

Women, I have a private group to motivate each other on Facebook. Find me and inquire on how to join!

I look forward to supporting one another this year!

Have a beautiful week ahead,

And as always,

Be Healthy,

Be Happy,