I’ve been spending the last few months tirelessly forging a new path and going confidently in the direction of my dreams. It was time for vacation.

Michael and I flew into Boston on Thursday night for a ski weekend at Stratton, our most favorite East Coast mountain. Actually, I’m not sure if it’s our most favorite mountain but we are completely obsessed with The Equinox Hotel so there we were…

Landing at 6 pm, we started our drive to Manchester. I’m so embarrassed to admit this (I’m a nutrition advisor, after all) but we stopped off in Concord, NH at PIZZERIA UNO! Wait, before you judge, I have to give them kudos for the amazing winter salad with organic mixed greens, walnuts and some other veggies. The Penne Primavera and Deep Dish pizza we shared? Not so healthy. 90/10 is my mantra – this dining experience was definitely part of that 10.

We got to the hotel around 11 and had a drink at the Falcon Bar, then headed to bed for our big day on the slopes. I am prone to vile, debilitating altitude sickness – I once spent 3 days in bed during Sundance while everyone around me got free shit and partied with celebrities – so I didn’t want to chance it, even though it was just Vermont.

Amazingly, it snowed all night and when we got to Stratton around 10 am, there was about a foot of fresh powder, ungroomed. Score! Sadly, I haven’t skied in a year so I had a tough time with that. Sure, I do yoga or barre or walk on the beach every day but skiing is totally different. Especially with fresh, wet snow sticking to your skis. Thankfully, the sun was shining as inches upon inches dumped on us and we had entire trails, like Mike’s Way, to ourselves.

My thighs started burning around 2:30, so we called it a day.

A spa day, to be specific. Ah, there’s nothing quite like a deep tissue massage after a day on the slopes. My therapist was a yogi from San Fran so instead of relaxing, I spent the whole hour chatting with him about his wife and kids and Downward Dog. I left feeling great, but the pain in my calves persisted. Now I even had a huge bruise on my right shin. Damn boots…

Dinner was at Mistral’s, an adorable family-owned place on a babbling brook with amazing food. It was picture perfect Vermont at it’s best. And even though it was Presidents’ Week, hardly any tables were seated and we got a prime spot by the window, overlooking the water. It was Top Ten Most Romantic dinners ever. And the seared albacore tuna with veggies I ordered wasn’t too shabby either.

Back at Falcon Bar, we started making new friends, bonding Jonie and Dennie from Queens and Ellen from West 21st Street. I love that we always gravitate towards the New Yorkers wherever we go – or maybe it was just that the entire hotel was filled with ’em.

Day two of skiing was fun – just a LOT more crowded and with less powder. We attempted some Blue Square runs but just weren’t feeling it. I grew up skiing; got thrown on a pair when I was 3 or 4 and spent most weekends at our house at Mount Snow, until I got older and too cool and wanted to stay home on Saturday and Sunday so I could go to golf course parties…or have my own “the parents are out of town” bashes. I skiied so often and was pretty good. But it’s way different for me now. I have fear, which didn’t exist when I barrelled down Black Diamonds at Heavenly when I was 11. I worry about broken bones and getting plowed into by an oncoming skier now. And those tree runs I used to go down every single time? Not a chance. It’s just not as fun for me to take risks. So I stick with the Greens, and I’m fine with that – even if my ego isn’t.

Day three, we planned to head back to the mountain for more pow pow, but awoke to another snowstorm, this one accompanied by dark skies and freezing wind. I was not going but didn’t tell Michael right away. Thankfully, he reached the same conclusion so I wasn’t stuck reading magazines in the base lodge for hours. We opted for a yummy brunch at Up For Breakfast and blew out of town instead, 3-day passes and rentals be damned. Our flights weren’t until the next day but we changed those too; when we’re done, we’re done.

Our outgoing meal was just as good as the incoming one – soup and salad at the Logan Airport Wolfgang Puck’s. But we were heading back to the sun and yoga and days at Spot Coffee, doing work and meeting friends. And almost a week later, my legs are finally starting to regain some feeling…it’s a tough life.