A Journey through Austria and my psyche (such as it is.)

Part 1: Leaving

Preparing for a two-week trip that includes skiing AND waltzing is a bit of a challenge. Take packing, for instance. Ski boots and a ball gown? Check. Glittery heels and comfy walking shoes? Check. Long underwear and a strapless bra? Check.

Leaving our 12-year old Newf proved to be the greater challenge. Preston was supposed to spend our holiday with my brother Rob who lives about two hours south of here. We thought it would be great for both of them. Rob recently lost his beloved Daisy, and Preston would enjoy a completely fenced in yard and no stairs at all to climb. He had other plans which decidedly did not include getting into the car. My anxiety at leaving him, already at 11 (on a scale of 1 through 10), went through the stratosphere. My amazing brother immediately offered to stay here. For two weeks. Without his brand new hot tub which is a bit of a lifeline for him.

Add guilt to the anxiety.

I was already concerned about my fitness (or lack thereof). I was afraid I would not be able to keep up with our very fit friends and my newly buff husband. I had even booked a personal trainer to help me get in shape before the trip. Then I woke up on Christmas morning with two broken ribs. It was difficult to breath never mind plank or push up. So the thought of my lung and leg capacity in the Alps after a run or two had me nearly panicked.

And so we departed for Innsbruck.

As you can tell, I lived.

Up next: Part 2: Arriving

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