January 1999, Copper Mountain, Colorado:

It is 2 p.m. and I am, as always, sheep-dogging my 2 children down the mountain behind their dad, struggling to keep up. I am light-headed. I feel faint. My knees are wobbling with the strain of too much time spent at the dinner table and not enough spent in the gym. Unbeknownst to me, I am also severely and extremely anaemic, and at altitude, this is NOT good. Suffice to say, I need food, and I need it STAT. Yesterday even. I make my way to the colourful cluster of ski suits at the bottom of the slope that is my family.

You. Have. Got. To. Be. Kidding. Me.

Hubby takes one look at me, rolls his eyes and pulls from his pocket the tiniest Snickers Bar known to man. It is about 1″ x 1.5″ and probably carries the caloric equivalent…