THE FOLLOWING IS A SENTENCE I NEVER THOUGHT I'd write: My mom and I are going rock climbing. It all started when SELF called to tell me my first official assignment for them would be a trip to spa. Excellent! Visions of massages and naps danced in my head. My editor awakened me from my reverie by asking "How do you feel about rock climbing?" Oh, dear. I quickly hatched a foolproof plan: I'd invite my mother so the folks at the Red Mountain Spa in Ivins, Utah, would go easy on me.
On our first day, we both face a fear we didn't even know we had: heights. My mother has been repeating "I am only here to support you, right? I don't have to climb, right?" like a mantra. But she feels so safe in the hands (and ropes) of our guides, Todd and Todd, that before I know it she's scampering up like a pro. So much for hiding behind mom.
     When my turn comes, I'm strapped into my very own butt-lifting harness as I stare in panic at a nearly vertical rock wall. But halfway up my first climb I realize, to my great surprise, that I'm actually enjoying it. I love the challenge of searching for each foothold and the way it demands strength from every muscle in my body (including many I didn't know I had). I end the day feeling like a brave warrior athlete, primed for yet another body battle.
The next day, I wake up with my own mantra: "I am not a wimp!" (Well, at least I am committed to acting like I am not a wimp.) We head out for a trek through the beautiful red-orange mountains after which the spa is named. Although mom hikes every day in the mountains around her home in Boulder, Colorado, we take into account my lack of experience and choose the beginner/intermediate expedition. It turns out to be plenty difficult, though beautiful. The shapes of the rocks make me feel like I am walking (okay, trudging and panting) on Mars.
     Back at the lodge, we have time to hit the salad bar before I'm off to Power Yoga. Michelle, the spa's yoga teacher, leads me through a challenging hour and a half, during which I stretch my newly discovered hiking muscles and reconnect with my breathing (I think I stopped breathing yesterday, on my second rock climb). I focus on being with my body in the moment, minus the judgments that I struggle with so much of the time. Afterward, Michelle and I have a chat about body image, and we're both struck by how many women have difficulty learning to love and accept their shapes. I mention that I find the best way to feel better about my body is to be completely honest about my fears. Our candid conversation invigorates me, and I feel ready to tackle my next adventure: snowshoeing.
     As we make the hour-long drive to the woods the following day, I imagine floating over the snow on some sort of self-propelled bouncy shoe. I quickly discover the sport involves awkward, high, exaggerated steps à la the Crane pose from The Karate Kid. But there's also winter-wonderland scenery and, thanks to our guides Mark and Topher, a lunch break seated on "chairs" sculpted from snow. I'm exhilarated, but when we return to the lodge, all I can think about is dipping my tired muscles into the outdoor Jacuzzi.
I must admit that, left to my own devices, I would never have chosen an adventure spa as a vacation. But I am very glad to have gone. Although it's tough to argue with the joys of being massaged and feel like royal larvae, there's a lot to be said for ending the week feeling stronger, braver and somehow taller than when you started. I also feel so accomplished; my newly discovered ability to rock climb has left me eager to tackle more sports. Snowboarding, anyone?