I'm still a skier

Sitting on the lift, freezing, staring at my skis. You can't beat that feeling.

Seriously frickin' cold. Shaking from wind, snow, cold. Ice up my ass. I look like Rudolph. My big red nose showing to light my way. I'm feeling old and sore. My back hurts, my legs are shaking and feel like a combination of jello and wet noodles. I have a headache from the night before that I just can't kick and my previously blown-out and surgically modified knee is swollen to the size of a grapefruit. You can't see more than 20 feet in front of you because of fog and clouds. Bumps in the snow jump out of nowhere cuz the light is so flat. Seriously, the snow STINGS. It's so cold and so windy, the snow feels like thousands of tiny needles on my skin. And I LOVE IT. Every minute of it. I can't get enough. This is one of the happiest miserable days of my life. I love the feeling of the poles in my hands, fingers squeezing in sheer anticipation. I love sitting on the lift, looking down on what I can see, picking my line, looking for jumps, visualizing my movements, breathing every bit of it in. I love moving through the trees so quickly that a wrong turn could kill you. Seriously, Sunny Bono died on the same run at the same resort by hitting a tree. Well I say "fuck you, trees" and ski through them as fast as I can. There's something about being airborn, too. My knee was so swollen than I couldn't spend as much time in the air as I wanted to, but what a feeling. I love skiing. I will ski more. It's crazy. I used to ski over 100 days a year. Did it 5 years in a row. Skied around 80 days a year the previous 3. Now I ski 2. Something must change. I am a skier. I realized that more than ever this last weekend. It's one of the few things in life I can say I'm truly passionate about. So I am here to say to skiing "I will get you and you can't run from me. You can't escape me and I can't escape you. We are soulmates and that will never change." Next time will be even better.

My best Rudolph impression.