
In writing this post I could not help but think about my friend
Jaz and her adventures racing
Brandon up 13th street here in Boulder back over the summer. They also happen to be ski buddies of mine and
granola entrepreneurs. Oh, and Jaz is one helluva
fast racer.
I was up at Breckenridge skiing on Friday, their opening day, and the snow, for this early in the season, was phenomenal. But the real powder stashes were to be found higher up. Away from where the lift lines carried your average snowboarder and skier. Those who live the motto "it's all about the down" do not venture up to these far regions, or, if they do, suffer horribly. Then there are those of us that have no problem suffering to
earn our turns.
As I exited the back gate, I looked up to see a long line of skiers boot packing it toward the top of peak 8, and I couldn't help but feeling of wanting to run ALL of them down. My desire for competition unprovoked had reignited. The race was on.
As I pushed upward I was dropping people left and right. Despite having done nothing for 7 months, I was fired up and motivation and confidence were the only fuels I needed to drive this push. I was on the move. This was my race to win. Steady pacing, deftly making lane changes to keep from being slowed. And then, I saw him. A ski patroller. The type of guy you'd expect would be in shape and know how to move quickly about the mountain. I noticed that I was only barely gaining on him. Determined I started to push harder. If there was anyone on this hill that could keep pace with me it would be him. I started to close the gap and just as I came up behind him I slowed my pace and rested for a bit, waiting for a moment to gather my energy for a strong surge around him. Then I went for it, always being careful to monitor the breathing so it wouldn't sound like I was suffering. I came around him and he was going hard, breathing heavy. He simply applauded my effort with a "nice work dude". I kept pressing till I felt I was out of ear shot before letting my breathing become audible. I then found my place where I wanted to ski, pulled off the trail, clicked in, and schussed down thru the glade in powder up to my knees.
Ski season is on, but the competetive fire is back. Let the racing begin.