I Thought I'd Hit a Skiing Plateau. Then I Tried Cross-Country Skiing in Midlife.
- Sarah Gilbertson
- 6 days ago
- 10 min read
At 50, I thought I'd maybe hit a skiing plateau.
Dare I say I'd even got a little bored with it, which felt like a strange thing to admit about a sport I've built most of my adult life around. I still got a certain thrill from downhill skiing – that amazing feeling of yipee when everything flows effortlessly; you feel like your turns link beautifully, the edges of your skis bite into gorgeous soft corduroy snow and a smile doesn't leave your face.
I can still connect viscerally to that feeling of yipee but over the last few years, I'd started noticing a certain friction when it came to the thought of downhill skiing. I found myself thinking I'd like shorter trips, smaller resorts, shorter ski days. Framing it as a lifestyle choice and a way of avoiding possible injury, when actually, if I was honest, it was closer to an excuse. And then at 50 I planned an entirely different kind of ski holiday; I chose a resort that offered cross-country skiing as well as downhill and my husband and I signed up to learn cross-country skiing in midlife. Something had to change; I certainly had so wasn't it about time something about skiing changed too? What I didn't expect was that it would give me back my enjoyment of downhill too.
If any of that sounds familiar – the friction, the justifications, the quiet feeling that something about skiing isn't working or making you feel the way it used to even though you can still technically do it – keep reading.
If you have a notebook nearby, or your phone, grab it. We're going to just spend a moment thinking back to some of our past skiing experiences. If it helps (once you've read this paragraph), lower your gaze or close your eyes if it's safe and feels safe to do so. Think of a skiing moment from your past that felt good. Not necessarily your best run – just one your body and mind remembers as yipee!
Write a couple of words about what made it good – there's no right or wrong. And notice what happens in your body as you think about it. Do your shoulders soften? A smile? Warmth? Does something ease? Just notice.
Then think of a time when you were skiing that didn't feel enjoyable for whatever reason; people, place, injury, ice, frustration... anything at all. Jot down any words that come to mind to describe that feeling. Notice what your body does with this one too. Any clenching or holding of breath perhaps.
Hold onto those notes.
Why does skiing start to feel harder in midlife?
When I did that exercise myself and really allowed myself to think back to my downhill skiing, I also tuned into my bodily sensations – that's to say, my somatic narrative. Not so woo – stay with me. Alongside the friction, I realised it wasn't just me. Friends said it. Women I worked with said it. I kept hearing the same things: "I've lost it." "I can't keep up." "I'm not sure I actually enjoy skiing anymore." "Maybe I should just stick to easy runs." Almost all of them thought the problem was confidence, or fitness, or nerve.
It's usually none of those things. What's changed is the conditions around the skiing – not the skiing itself. I've written about that gap between being able to ski and actually enjoying it before, and what surprised me was how many women recognised it instantly.
For me, the conditions that had changed were stacking up quietly. Tignes, where I've skied a lot over the years, was feeling busier in ways that got under my skin. The idea of doing Mickey's Ears again – a steep, committing couloir off the Point de Lavachet – which I'd have jumped at a few years earlier, now came with a hesitation I couldn't quite place. Not fear exactly, more a reluctance to be the one who's slower, less sure, the lame duck in a group of people who are still skiing the way I used to.
And underneath all of that – a worry that I was going to run out of something. Energy, maybe. Courage. Tolerance for risk. A growing fear of reinjury that I couldn't quite bring myself to talk about out loud. I didn't know exactly what was going on but I could feel myself becoming disconnected from my love of skiing and my skiing world becoming smaller and smaller.
What I didn't realise yet was that what I was calling a plateau was actually something else entirely. It wasn't that I'd lost my skiing. It was that my body was asking for different conditions.
So instead of forcing myself back into the same ski holiday template, we planned something different.
What cross-country skiing in midlife actually feels like
We took downhill skis and boots – that wasn't up for negotiation – but we also signed up to learn classic cross-country skiing. Both of us. Both beginners. Again.
We're BASI-qualified ski instructors. We both did a bit of indoor race club and coached moguls but our first lesson had us feeling like Bambi on ice as our instructor Elodie had us starting off on one ski in the track, scootering along. Ah it turns out balance is a common necessity across ski disciplines!
Our first lesson was fun and a little bruising – I couldn't remember when I'd last fallen whilst skiing. Learning something completely new in my fifties certainly pushed me out of my comfort zone but I got an amazing amount of positives out of it.
It reminded me what it's like to be a beginner. And there's a freedom in that – no expectations, no performance, no one watching to see if you're keeping up. Not thinking very far ahead about what if's... being present.
I'd assumed cross-country skiing would feel like a gentler, flatter, slightly worthy alternative to the real thing. It wasn't. It was physically demanding in a completely different way – the rhythm of it, once you stop fighting for balance and let the glide happen, was genuinely absorbing.
No lifts. No queues. No scanning for other people's speed. Just rhythm, glide and time to take in the surroundings and say 'bonjour' to other folk. No one to keep up with and no sense of urgency of having to make it to a set point by a certain time. It's also a full-body aerobic workout that's kinder on joints than most high-impact sports, which is one reason cross-country skiing keeps cropping up in 'over 50' recommendations.
At one point we stopped and watched vultures circling above the valley, and I realised I hadn't thought about anything other than what I was doing for over an hour. That almost never happens to me on a busy alpine piste.
Cross-country skiing in midlife gave me space I didn't realise I'd been missing.
How cross-country skiing gave me back a sense of choice
This year we added the skate technique into the mix. Back to having lessons – with Guillaume this time, whose flawless English had been learnt through watching Netflix.
So many different ways to use the poles – different rhythms and emphasis depending on terrain and speed. More strenuous in terms of a workout, in a good way, and for me a movement pattern I was convinced would give me massive issues with my back.
Happily, it didn’t. All cross-country skiing seems to entail really comfy shoes instead of rigid alpine boots, lighter kit and no queuing for lifts.
For me it represented more than just learning something new and enjoying it. I got to learn with my husband which was a brilliant shared experience and I got to update the stories I’d had running on loop around my head for so long, that were stored deep in my body – I realised there was more I could do, not less. More options than I’d thought.
And then something I hadn’t planned for happened. I started enjoying downhill more.
I think what cross-country had done – without me realising – was give my body completely different movement patterns. I’d expected them to break me. They didn’t. Effort that felt strengthening rather than depleting. And that quietly updated something – my body’s story about what I could handle. By the time I clipped into my alpine bindings, I felt stronger, not broken. My window for what I was willing to try had expanded.
I skied moguls again. Soft, marshmallowy ones on a black itinerary run under a chairlift. The usual thoughts – my back might not love this, can I even ski them without looking like a muppet? I managed the first couple carefully, sliding down the backs, trying to keep the speed down.
And then something shifted. I flew.
I stood at the bottom out of breath and beaming, waiting for my husband to finish his very smooth run, and I banked that moment – not as performance, but as information. The handbrake I hadn’t consciously pulled released. For some women, that moment isn’t moguls – it’s a gentle green run home called L’Escargot, or just linking a few turns together so you feel like you're flowing down the mountain.
I got to update the stories I’d had running on loop around my head for so long, that were stored deep in my body
You don't have to choose between alpine and cross-country
You don't have to choose. The part of you that wants moguls and speed and that slightly reckless feeling of committing to a run – that's real. The part that wants rhythm and glide through trees and nobody watching – that's real too. They can co-exist. Turns out I'm a have-your-gateau-and-eat-it kind of skier.
And here's the thing – you might not need a women's retreat or a confidence coach to get there. What you need is the willingness to be honest with yourself about what you actually want from a week on snow right now. Not what you wanted five years ago. Not what everyone else wants. What you want, this year, from this trip, or even this morning.
My husband and I worked this out together on snow. It was me who needed things to change – he was happy enough with downhill – but he was up for learning something new and adding it into the mix. He loved the skate skiing and probably won't bother with classic much again, but I like both.
Then again, I'm a Nordic walking instructor too, so the rhythm of it was always going to suit me. He's still half mountain goat – he loves off-piste and ski touring more than me. I'm still a mogul junkie when I can be – it's as close to being on the edge of control as I can get and it's awesome. We don't need to want the same things from a week on snow. Neither do you.
Your bandwidth changes. Your boots change. If you’ve come back from injury or surgery and skiing still doesn’t feel the same, that’s real – it’s not in your head. And we find it so hard, us midlife women who hold it all and everyone else together so much of the time, to just stop and ask: what would I actually like?
Paying attention to that is what I mean when I talk about skiing on your own terms.
What do you actually enjoy about skiing?
Remember those two moments I asked you to write down? You’ve already noticed what felt good and what didn’t. You’ve already felt the difference in your body.
Now let yourself think about what’s changed. Is it age? Injury? Time away from snow? Fear of reinjury? Slopes being busier than they used to be? All of it is valid. All of it is real. That’s not weakness – that’s self-compassion, and most of us are rubbish at it.
So here’s the last bit. Allow yourself to think – to dream, even – about what you’d really love from skiing now. Not what you used to love. Not what your partner loves. Not what the group wants to do. What would make you feel that sense of yipee again?
Write it down. One list. Be as specific as you like.
Does it give you a feeling of excitement at the thought of it? Can you feel it in your body?
That’s information. And it’s yours.
And maybe there’s a conversation to be had with the person you ski with. This is where I am right now. This is what I’d like. It might change – but right now, this is what I want.
That’s how it started for me. And I haven’t looked back.
Some common questions:
Can a beginner do cross-country skiing?
Yes. I started in my fifties having never done it before - and I’m a ski instructor. The first hour felt wobbly and slightly ridiculous, but classic cross-country on gentle tracks is genuinely accessible. You control the pace, you can stop whenever you like, and nobody is timing you.
How difficult is cross-country skiing to learn?
It’s more awkward than hard. The challenge is balance and weight transfer, not strength or bravery. With one beginner lesson and a flat green trail, most people are gliding along far sooner than they expect - even if it doesn’t look elegant at first.
Can you do cross-country and alpine skiing in the same holiday?
Absolutely - and that combination is what changed everything for me. Research your resort carefully so that you choose one with access to both or good links between both. Also choosing a resort that is high enough to get good snow as a lot of cross country resorts close if there is not enough snow as I found that out in during a stay in Wengen one year.
Want to understand more about why skiing feels different?
If any of this has got you thinking, I put together a short email with three things I wish I’d understood about my nervous system and skiing sooner. It’s the stuff that made sense of why skiing felt harder – and what actually helped.
3 Insights Your Nervous System Wants You to Know on Snow:
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About Sarah
Sarah Gilbertson is a Therapeutic Coach, BASI-qualified ski instructor, and founder of FlourishWell Coaching.
She specialises in Nervous System Literacy, working with women who love skiing but find it feels different now – helping them understand what's actually changed and how to work with it, rather than pushing through.
With over eight years in the European ski industry and a Diploma in Therapeutic Coaching for Women, Sarah understands how group dynamics, pressure, fear and life transitions shape people's experience on snow.
Website: flourishwell.coach
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