![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
night skiing
what to do after a day of waking up at 7:15, hitting the slopes at 9:00, and not stopping but for an hour of lunch until they threatened to leave us at the foot of the hill if we came down just one more time at 4:35? more of the same!
why yes, overindulgence -is- my middle name.
today was different though - spending a day conquering black diamonds, pushing myself to turn at just a bit of a smaller angle to see if i could handle just a little more speed, swallowing that last little nagging echo to get myself home safe for mommy - i felt physically better, energized instead of yesterday's dejected endnote, but it was the mentality that came with abandoning myself to the flow.
we took the bus to silver creek, the next mountain over. night had set in about an half an hour ago, so it was pitch black everywhere save for the floodlights that line the trails. their snow was much more solid, none of the slush we'd had to negotiate all day at snowshoe. so we'd put on our gear and trudged to the precipice of the bus stop hill. their runs looked to be less curvy, yet more hardcore because of the thin layer of powder and hilly construct. also, there were no signs to direct, advise, or in any way guide us as to where we were, where this all finally lead to, or what color the trail happened to be. i raised said concern to Shelly - that girl's always good for a swift reality kick:
Me: (a little meekly, assessing what we could see of the slopes ahead) Wait, what color is this trail?
Shelly: (looks at me and says with an eyeroll in her tone) Oh, like it matters.
yeah, that girl's kinda cool. that and she can manage to acknowledge that i do in fact possess skill as well as arrogance - she'd suggest then caution or just let me fall on my own ass and learn that way if i needed to rather than belittle everything i'd worked to accomplish for the whole of the past three days as nothing and that i even had the gall to ski these hallowed grounds was an insult to "real" skiers and snow faces everywhere. but that's another entry.
we skied for two hours, the adrenalin high of skiing through darkness, liable to hit ice patches at any turn and never see it coming the only thing sustaining our exhausted, aching bodies. faster and steeper, every trail became a new challenge of body/mind chicken, seeing which would cry 'uncle' first. down Slaymaker, making swift work of Fox Chase, stopping only for the duration of the lift ride up and spending that time discussing the previous run and which would be crossed off next. somewhere in the midst of the festivity, Shelly dropped something about '[me]' and 'impressive' in the same sentence, so maybe i had a bit of pride mixed in that endocrine cocktail.
but when time became critical to make a successful fishbowl filler run we hoisted our battle-worn but maniacally grinning selves back on the bus. i grabbed the entire back corner and closed my eyes for the ride back, absorbing the occasional bounce in the road, the sporadic grunt or dirty joke from my cohorts, but mostly reveling in the authentic bluegrass from the overhead speakers. we chanted and stomped to the mellow beat as we rode, glad simply to know that life does in fact have more to offer than daily grinds and homework. reality in fact tastes good. it's this candied fog we usually stumble through that's leaving the bitter aftertaste.
why yes, overindulgence -is- my middle name.
today was different though - spending a day conquering black diamonds, pushing myself to turn at just a bit of a smaller angle to see if i could handle just a little more speed, swallowing that last little nagging echo to get myself home safe for mommy - i felt physically better, energized instead of yesterday's dejected endnote, but it was the mentality that came with abandoning myself to the flow.
we took the bus to silver creek, the next mountain over. night had set in about an half an hour ago, so it was pitch black everywhere save for the floodlights that line the trails. their snow was much more solid, none of the slush we'd had to negotiate all day at snowshoe. so we'd put on our gear and trudged to the precipice of the bus stop hill. their runs looked to be less curvy, yet more hardcore because of the thin layer of powder and hilly construct. also, there were no signs to direct, advise, or in any way guide us as to where we were, where this all finally lead to, or what color the trail happened to be. i raised said concern to Shelly - that girl's always good for a swift reality kick:
Me: (a little meekly, assessing what we could see of the slopes ahead) Wait, what color is this trail?
Shelly: (looks at me and says with an eyeroll in her tone) Oh, like it matters.
yeah, that girl's kinda cool. that and she can manage to acknowledge that i do in fact possess skill as well as arrogance - she'd suggest then caution or just let me fall on my own ass and learn that way if i needed to rather than belittle everything i'd worked to accomplish for the whole of the past three days as nothing and that i even had the gall to ski these hallowed grounds was an insult to "real" skiers and snow faces everywhere. but that's another entry.
we skied for two hours, the adrenalin high of skiing through darkness, liable to hit ice patches at any turn and never see it coming the only thing sustaining our exhausted, aching bodies. faster and steeper, every trail became a new challenge of body/mind chicken, seeing which would cry 'uncle' first. down Slaymaker, making swift work of Fox Chase, stopping only for the duration of the lift ride up and spending that time discussing the previous run and which would be crossed off next. somewhere in the midst of the festivity, Shelly dropped something about '[me]' and 'impressive' in the same sentence, so maybe i had a bit of pride mixed in that endocrine cocktail.
but when time became critical to make a successful fishbowl filler run we hoisted our battle-worn but maniacally grinning selves back on the bus. i grabbed the entire back corner and closed my eyes for the ride back, absorbing the occasional bounce in the road, the sporadic grunt or dirty joke from my cohorts, but mostly reveling in the authentic bluegrass from the overhead speakers. we chanted and stomped to the mellow beat as we rode, glad simply to know that life does in fact have more to offer than daily grinds and homework. reality in fact tastes good. it's this candied fog we usually stumble through that's leaving the bitter aftertaste.
wow