Outdoor Industry Address Breakfast– OR Show Daily 2012
Category Archives: Uncategorized
Jill Adler earned a master’s degree in journalism from the University of Southern California and went to work for a CBS-TV affiliate in Aspen, Colo., to chase her dreams of media and the ski life. She would then, of course, report on both real-world issues and ski events. A job offer at the NBC affiliate in Salt Lake City led her to Utah and the Greatest Snow on Earth. Coincidence? Hmmm. When the station downsized, Jill concurrently taught skiing at Deer Valley and enrolled in law school at the University of Utah. Two weeks after graduation, she decided, “I hate law, there’s no time to ski,” and went back into broadcast.
As ‘Roxy,’ she was well known for her “News from a Broad” newscasts on Rock99/KURR-FM in Salt Lake City. She was an integral part of Utah’s #1 morning radio team. But the true beauty of the job was the ability to work a full shift and still ski at Snowbird and Alta every day. When she’s not freeskiing or teaching, the Level 3 PSIA certified ski instructor writes outdoor adventure stories for publications like Sunset, Skiing, Salt Lake Magazine, Dallas Morning News, MSN.com, SnoCountry.com, Snowlist.com, TheSkiChannel.com, and everyone in between.
When the seasons change, she rock climbs, hikes, kayaks and plays Frisbee with her eight-year-old daughter and their Australian shepherd. Her favorite food is Chinese and as much as she likes long walks on the beach she’d rather be ripping long vertical chutes in the mountains.
As a freelancer, Jill is constantly on the hunt for story ideas to pitch and work to fill the bank account. There’s no job too inconsequential or mundane. Just reach out and see.
When you have a media request or lead or just want someone to ski with, contact Jill at firstname.lastname@example.org.
In between debugging my turtle of a laptop (thanks, Vista), I find myself constantly combing through stories of celebrity cancers. Are they dead? What did they have? What stage was it? Was it something complicated? Could it be me next? I can’t help myself. It’s like watching a trainwreck; sometimes I’m the trainwreck itself. Last year, it would barely be a blip on my radar. This year it means something.
Patrick Swayze gone. The news stimulates the hunt for answers. If it weren’t for the obnoxious hematoma/bruise left in the crook of my arm by Nurse Ratchett in the Hunstman Infusion Room, I wouldn’t know I have just had my second round of chemo. So I have to keep comparing my ‘story’ with others’.
The only side effects I had from the first round was hurling Chinese food the night after doing Eskimo rolls at the Ogden Paddle Fest; and the runs one day about a week later. Hair, check. Period, check. Energy, check. Pain free, check. Appetite, check. In fact, I’m stronger than I’ve been in months thanks to Patrick, my Huntsman personal trainer twice a week. It was actually pretty fricking cool that I had three weeks of no doctors’ appointments and no tests for the first time in two months. It was almost like the scare was gone. I did the next round of chemo last Friday and suffered even less. I actually sent emails to my oncology doctor wondering if he was dosing me with a placebo or something. I couldn’t believe that I had no dramatic reaction.
Just to prove I wasn’t hallucinating, came Round 2. Talk about “pinch me I must be dreaming.”
The stint in the arctic Utah Olympic Pool the day before sucked the buoyancy out of my veins. Even after warm wraps, three liters of water and a Lorzapan, nothing. They couldn’t find a vein in my right arm anywhere. So they called in the big guns- a grey-haired grandma that yelled “stop it” as she unsympathetically shoved a needle into my arm prompting a terrifying cry to escape my lips. I bit them and the tears developed. The pain didn’t end as she continued to shove. “Don’t”, “Stop it,” she said again sharply and sternly. Apparently screaming as you are tortured like a drug smuggler in Turkey will freak out the other guests of Chateau Chemo. Suzanne Sommers blames the chemo treatment for Patrick Swayze’s death not his pancreatic cancer. Chemo can cause all sorts of nasty side effects like stroke and leukemia.
My T-Cell count was low on the day of chemo. I was sent back to Huntsman for a Neulasta shot on Sunday. That’s to stimulate your long bones like a femur to produce more white cells. Scary. I feel fine but I could still wind up in the hospital with a deadly infection faster than you can whip up a PB&J. They told me that because the count is low to avoid contact with ANYONE- including Sage and Ryan- until I get my shot. And here I am going to a Pig Roast outdoors with a bunch of snot-dripping toddlers who are drinking from Sage’s sippy cup and falling on her in the trampoline. One guy there tried to talk me into a drag on his joint as if his next paycheck depended on it. Of course, I said no. Ryan on the other hand, seized the moment. The next day he complains of achiness all over and chills. So I sleep in my office for the next two nights to avoid catching something. I got the shot that morning on my way to the climbing gym. They warned me of deep bone pain as my marrow regenerated TCells. Never happened. Another placebo?? I did feel quite blah on Monday but chalked it up to PMS and the Park City rain. Today, I’m up at 7 a.m. and off to Legoland or Harbor Days in San Diego.
I know I’m not playing some character in a movie where everything is a prop and I can go home at night to a reality that existed before the diagnosis but I can’t help wondering whether everything I’m going through is really working when I feel fine. Silly, I know. I should be thankful that not a soul can tell I have cancer; not even me. I shouldn’t need to get rushed to the hospital to know I’m taking care of myself. That’s just wrong.
P.S. Anyone who tries to tell you how they would want to be treated if they had cancer is full of shit. You don’t know until you actually have cancer.
Thanks to my friends for dropping food at my door and taking Sage for a couple of hours on some days. That truly helps!
Wow. Quiet. Of course it is 1:30 in the morning. It better be quiet. It’s just that I’m actually appreciating the peace. Until tonight I’ve been up working so late that I don’t notice. Tonight I can. One day to breathe. I’ve met all of my latest deadlines and the next is Monday. Tomorrow can be a play day. Unfortunately, Ryan’s not much help when it comes to freedom. Sometimes I’m jealous of divorced couples. Not that I want to be single but the thought of having 2-3 FULL days just to myself even if it’s every other week – no sharing a bed, no smelling farts, no changing diapers or filling sippy cups. Ah Heaven.
Last week, when my acting coach bailed on our session, I took myself to see Twilight instead of going straight home. At first Ryan was peeved and called it lame that I would do this without him- see a movie. But I convinced him he would hate sitting through a chick vampire flick. I was right, btw. I personally found the movie intriguing and silly. The dialogue, acting, and cinematography was weak. The only thing saving the film was the dude who played Edward. The actor is fascinating.
Back to Ryan. By the time I got home – two hours later- he was cool. And he should be. He spends 2-3 hours twice a week playing hockey. I run errands and squeeze in the occasional climb at Rockreation but nothing that regular and rarely at night. Today I announced that I would be taking Wed night. and either Thursday or Monday. But what about us? he asked. We would still sleep together every night (which we didn’t before he moved in) and we would have Friday and Saturday nights to hang. Perfect deal! Now if I can get us both to stick to that.
I find myself glued to my computer, forgetting to even leave the house. That’s not cool for balance or my psyche.
Starting in a couple of weeks, however, I can ski 3-4x a weeks because Sage starts up with her daycare again. That will make Jill a happy camper. I don’t know how people with 2+ kids function. Sage is adorable and sweet but she’s also going a mile a minute, always wanting something from me unless I put my foot down and tell her she must “let momma work” and go play by yourself for while. She does – but then it’s time for a diaper, for a nap, for dinner, etc. I love watching Ryan freak out when I put him in charge for just a couple of hours. He always steps back with a giant appreciation for what I do every day.
Things are going better with Ryan and his ass. He’s lighting more matches and taking it to another room. He’s still farting in his sleep though. Kristen says her man Kirk has trained himself not to and should talk with Ryan. He also takes some kind of remedy but I’m not sure what. I need to get those two together.
Ryan begged me not to wake him tonight, even if he farts. I refuse to lie quietly while I choke. He has to work tomorrow despite the holiday. Why can’t Wall Street close? It’s not like there’s going to be heavy trading. Everyone’s still in a tryptophan coma, no? Or at least in vacation mode. I don’t mind. I get to sleep in and wake up to the bed all to myself. Then Sage and I will get pedis at the Cole Sport Roxy party at noon. I’m meeting Ryan back at the house around 3 to pick up my Hyundai which- after more than a month- is finally fixed. $1800 later, it drives. New transfer case and differential. Ouch. Anyone want to buy a 2001 Santa Fe cheap? I should just junk it. It began as a bad memory. I bought that car a week after Greg broke up with me and a week before he packed up and moved back east without so much as a goodbye note to prove (to whom?) that I was starting a new life. As much as I am over that guy, he stills leaves a bad taste in my mouth. That’s the lowest, most disrepectful, most hurtful thing any guy has ever done to me in all of my years dating. I was a wreck for two months straight (even spent $100 on a phone psychic- that’s how destroyed I was), rebounded with a bipolar alcoholic for six months and then practically hopped in the sack with a new guy every month for a year after that. Until Ryan. I should have bought a new car then. Thrown off all of the dead weight. But now, after seven years, it’s going. Yay!
Look for it parked in a lot at Kimball with a For Sale sign on it. If you live anywhere in snow, it’s a great ride. Just has a lot of miles on it- 154k! I was going places, Man. My new car won’t get nearly that kind of action. I’ve learned to find life closer to home. Happy Thanksgiving, Everyone! Hope you had a wonderful dinner (stay away from Good Thymes; ours sucked) and a blast with friends and family.
We took this outside the restaurant today before heading in to see BOLT. This was the very first time Sage made it through an entire movie without getting fussy. Normalcy is within my reach. BTW, I love kid flicks.