And back to skiing!
As I sat in Auburn after Way Too Cool contemplating what to do I considered my options.
Head back to San Francisco post-50k, collapse, wake up stiff and sore, putz around the house, contemplate what kind of recovery activity I could do, feel lonely, feel restless, grow irritated for not going skiing.
Head up to Tahoe, collapse, wake up stiff and sore, cram aching foot into ski boot, pop 6-8 ibuprofens and head out to Squaw for the first ski day in the new time change with the forecast calling for sun, blue skies and temps in the 40s-50s.
After ditching my jacket within the first mile of the Cool race the day before, the next best decision of the weekend was going skiing. The conditions were superb. Firm, freshly groomed corduroy on the groomies to start the day and nudge my legs into the notion of skiing, a 9am start with zero crowds. Off Olympic Lady I thought I was all alone in a slot until I heard a voice below me call out "Good snow, right?" And that's how I got to ski with Rob for the next few hours until John arrived. Rob, the total 70's ski bum throwback with thick wavy hair and a Magnum PI-like moustache. He was a total shredder and we ripped around KT, Headwall, Broken Arrow and back finding the killer champagne-like snow on the North Bowl of HW where I returned with the boys later in the day to find it just as good.
Jeremy hadn't been on mountains any bigger than those in Pennsylvannia and so we dazzled him with pitches in the Funnel and over off Granite Chief. He was a charger - both boys went wherever John and I pointed. On the race course we sent down SLU alums vs Maryland freshman with SLU taking the overall title. Boo ya! (John, Andrea and I all graduated from St. Lawrence in upstate NY). We stopped for lunch at Gold Coast, baking in the sun, and again after catching the last lift at 4:01, we recounted the day over beers in the parking lot as the sun slowly set behind the peaks. It was the perfect first spring-skiing like day with stellar company.
Of course, completely fried later that night, I crashed hard in Tahoe and jumped out of there the next day at 4am to beeline it home, shower and then head to work. Rough Monday but all so worth it!
Head back to San Francisco post-50k, collapse, wake up stiff and sore, putz around the house, contemplate what kind of recovery activity I could do, feel lonely, feel restless, grow irritated for not going skiing.
Head up to Tahoe, collapse, wake up stiff and sore, cram aching foot into ski boot, pop 6-8 ibuprofens and head out to Squaw for the first ski day in the new time change with the forecast calling for sun, blue skies and temps in the 40s-50s.
Uh dur. I was heading to the mountains.
There was no one I knew up that night so I stayed alone at my friends' John and Andrea's house in Donner Lake, occasionally wondering - alone in a big house in the dark surrounded by trees - if the sounds of the night were a stalker coming to get me. Clearly I was exhausted. 2 beers, 6 IBs and a handful of Nilla wafers later I was passed out in my sleeping bag.
Good thing though because I was up and out early to get to Squaw and meet John who was driving up from SF that morning with his nephew, Max, and Max's friend Jeremy; freshmen at Maryland who were up for Spring Break.
After ditching my jacket within the first mile of the Cool race the day before, the next best decision of the weekend was going skiing. The conditions were superb. Firm, freshly groomed corduroy on the groomies to start the day and nudge my legs into the notion of skiing, a 9am start with zero crowds. Off Olympic Lady I thought I was all alone in a slot until I heard a voice below me call out "Good snow, right?" And that's how I got to ski with Rob for the next few hours until John arrived. Rob, the total 70's ski bum throwback with thick wavy hair and a Magnum PI-like moustache. He was a total shredder and we ripped around KT, Headwall, Broken Arrow and back finding the killer champagne-like snow on the North Bowl of HW where I returned with the boys later in the day to find it just as good. Jeremy hadn't been on mountains any bigger than those in Pennsylvannia and so we dazzled him with pitches in the Funnel and over off Granite Chief. He was a charger - both boys went wherever John and I pointed. On the race course we sent down SLU alums vs Maryland freshman with SLU taking the overall title. Boo ya! (John, Andrea and I all graduated from St. Lawrence in upstate NY). We stopped for lunch at Gold Coast, baking in the sun, and again after catching the last lift at 4:01, we recounted the day over beers in the parking lot as the sun slowly set behind the peaks. It was the perfect first spring-skiing like day with stellar company.Of course, completely fried later that night, I crashed hard in Tahoe and jumped out of there the next day at 4am to beeline it home, shower and then head to work. Rough Monday but all so worth it!
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