Skiing

I started skiing when I was 3 years old. That could be true. I'm not sure when I started skiing exactly. I just remember that Dad always said he pulled me out of the ski school at Squaw to teach me to ski because apparently they weren't doing it right.

So it began. My dad always loved skiing, my mom not so much. But she'd take us to Alpine Meadows or, later, Sugar Bowl, stick us in all day lessons and spend her day reading in the lodge. My dad would do the same thing except he would actually ski. Then he started to get old and I started to get good. Now we ski together. I say I'm not as good as he is and that might be true. But give us a day on the slopes and I'll still be ready to go at the end of the day, whereas he might quit around 2 or 3pm.

I think I was 10 or 11 when a Sugar Bowl instructor asked if I would like to be on their racing team. I was so excited, being on a ski team was so special, you couldn't just apply and be on it, you had to be selected. Too bad Dad decided it would be too difficult for me to spend just weekends in Tahoe. And how would I race, he argued. They tell me now that it was just that by the time we looked into it, all the spots were full, but I was old enough to remember the real details.

I haven't had a chance to ski much since moving, even though I live somewhere that gets snow. It's b/c my state is flat. Historically speaking, a glacier melted on it and flattened everything and made the soil great for growing corn. And soy now, apparently. Highest point is just above 1000 feet. Woo! It's not totally true that I haven't skied since we moved. I skied my first college winter break when K and I went to CA. I can't remember if we stayed 3 or 4 days. I think it was just 3. Sugar Bowl the first day, North Star the second, Squaw (after a failed Heavenly attempt) the third.

So I'm turning to CO for my skiing needs. Perfect, actually, because it's accessible for a weekend trip from my college. Seriously, I love that I-70 is freaking right there. I've thought about going a few times, but only when I get angry. It's what I do. I get angry and plan these crazy trips. I planned to move back to CA and live with my grandparents. I could have made it almost all the way there too without my parents finding out. That's how much detail I go into. So I've planned it all out, from where I'd stay depending on how much cash I have to where I'd ski depending on the conditions and time of year.

My dad and I are hopefully taking a trip during my spring break to ski. He's thinking Utah. I'm thinking that I might end up being the only one skiing because he might not make it more than two days in a row. It might be fun though. I'll find some locals and try to keep up with them. That's something I've always wanted to do actually, just follow some locals around for a few hours, seeing if I can keep up with the people that ski 100+ days a year.

I'm not sure if I can really express how much I love skiing. It's just always been this escape for me. The idea of just going somewhere and it's just you and the slopes and you can just forget about everything else always comforts me. Skiing is always different. You can hit the same run over and over and because people have gone while you were on the lift getting to the run again it's different. It never gets old.