Blocks From the Start Line

Last night, Josh and I had plans to go to the Orioles v. Rays game in Baltimore. Before we left, it occurred to me that we’d be only a few blocks from the start line of my upcoming half marathon. Why not take advantage of this and see the route for myself? I printed the course map, the street by street directions, and an elevation chart. On the way up, I told Josh my idea- to drive the course route and get an idea of what I’m in for. He didn’t really get it. He thought it would take a really long time and, just like Hemingway, said that I wouldn’t get a true sense of the hills (the contours of the country) while driving in a car. But he’d navigate the 13.1 miles for me after the game if I really wanted to do it. I did.

We watched the game and I proved to be a poor baseball fan, yet again. I wore Oriole’s colors to rep my state but still mostly wanted the rays to win because I know Josh cares a million times more than I do and because winning could actually get them into the playoffs. But I spent a lot of time texting with Nicole, whose friend saw me on TV! Even if I don’t pay the best attention, though, I really do enjoy spending a cool evening with Josh at a ballpark. It is relaxing and different from the every day. I whined about still not making an appearance on the kiss cam and ate some hearty ballpark food.

By the time we got to the car (after the Rays won 5-2), it was 10:20 PM. I had texted Nathan asking how long he thinks it would take to drive 13 miles through Baltimore and he said "A while depending on where you're going. It's like 2.3 miles from my apt to 95 and it takes like 10-15 minutes. But that is going straight through downtown”. I kept this a secret from Josh and hoped he was wrong. But after taking 8 minutes and several wrong turns to drive only as far as the yellow circle on the map below, I realized Josh and Nathan were right.

Half Marathon Course in Blue

We nixed the idea and decided to go give Nathan, who lived 2 miles uptown, a hug and then drive home. I called him and he was in Fairfax, VA with his [boyfriend] Josh. So never mind. All missions aborted and we were heading home.

I started to think about the pros and cons of driving the course. Would it make it easier to know in advance exactly what all the roads will look like? To be expecting all of the uphills and the downhills? Or would it make it more tedious during the race, always knowing exactly how far I have left to run or how long the next hill will be? I can’t really know for sure but the curiosity is now gnawing at me. Scouting out the course didn’t even occur to me with my first half so I’m not sure why it’s suddenly so important. Part of me just likes the idea of an excuse to visit Nathan in Baltimore and ride our bikes 13.1 miles together. If I get around to it, great. If not, I’ll get to be even more anxious and surprised on race day!

Somerset Back to School Classic: Signed Up

On Sunday, after posting my 25 before 25 list, I checked the website for the Somerset Back to School Classic and learned that the price would go up the next day. I sent my brother a text that read:

Btw, on my list of 25 before 25, I put convince Nathan to run somerset 8k with me!!! Price goes up after today- I'm signing you up! hahaha


His response:

Haha ok fine


So that was easy enough. And I can cross it off my list.

21. Convince Nathan to run Somerset 8k with me.


If anyone else needs convincing, I'd be glad to step in. It is still only $25 and it is "Montgomery County's finest community race", popular among many local runners, according to active.com. Here is the route.

Both pictures via

25 Before 25

I have been working on a list of 25 things to do before I turn 25 and it is harder than I thought it would be. At first I included things that I’ve done before but want to do again. But I tailored those so that everything on this list is a new challenge. I am scared of how fast time flies but I am excited for all that is ahead. I truly look forward to being twenty-five, I think it will be a great age and I expect to be ready for new adventures. But, as my dad always advised, I will not wish my life away. I will live in the moment, while also planning for the future, and I will try my hardest to accomplish these twenty five “to-do”s in the measly fifty-one weeks ahead.

1. Plan and begin bike ride across the US of A.
2. Start cakestruction blog with Ingrid.
3. Swim for sport.
4. Set foot on the Appalachian trail.
5. Go to Charlottesville with Joshua.
6. Try at least 15 new restaurants in DC.
7. Give YOGA another chance.
8. Significantly refresh and improve my French. Then spend an afternoon speaking only French with my mom.
9. Become comfortable with public speaking.
10. Go Running in Vermont with VT Shaws.
11. Begin Composting.
12. Properly train for a half marathon and run it, comfortably, in under two hours.
13. Create custom title/header for my blog.
14. Survey my friends on the best coffee in DC. Drink a large cup from there. And savor it.
15. Ride a century with my dad.
16. Go somewhere new with Joyce and Nicole.
17. Take at least three writing workshop courses and develop theme/plan/vision for my book.
18. Complete comprehensive, streamlined Operations Manual for Fund Development department at GSCNC.
19. Go to a Red Hot Chili Peppers concert.
20. Create and eat a complete meal with foods only picked, killed, or scavenged by me and a sous-chef. Dad?
21. Convince Nathan to run Somerset 8k with me. 
22. Rock climb outdoors (with a harness and stuff).
23. Learn to use Adobe video editor. Take more videos.
24. Become much more handy. Especially with bicycle maintenance.
25. Swim in the Pacific Ocean.

Ragbrai Day 5: Tail or Head

Let me share with you an e-mail that my mom sent me this morning:

Yesterday, we followed team WIND... their motto: 'looking for tail, but we'll take head..." Ha ha, we've had some of both today (wind that is...)

 

Those weirdo mid-westerners are just the best. And the Shaws fit right in. Not only did they  follow team WIND, but they created their own little Ragbrai ride from the Des Moines Airport, where they dropped off their rental car, to their campsite in Algoona, 17 miles away. They rode through downtown to see the capitol building, where my grandma spent much of her career.

 

From

 

Did you know that my grandmother, Elizabeth Orr Shaw, was the first woman in the Iowa State Legislature?! She was also a babe.

Anyway, I am envious of Betsy and Sandy's detour yesterday. Of all the times I've been to Iowa, I've never seen Des Moines (Days Mwehhns- nasal) and I'd really like to. The beauty of this capitol building, especially, spiked my curiosity so I went searching and found some cool stuff at Living Downtown Des Moines. Maybe my mom wasn't so crazy when she suggested I move to Iowa and make Ragbrai hire me. I mean still pretty crazy, but less so than I thought.

But enough about yesterday and Shaw family history. We're on to Day 5. I think I'd be sad that the ride was nearing it's end. But not too sad to pee in corn fields, drink beers while biking, and eat weird parts of cow and pig. Maybe I'd be experiencing some tail or head...

 

See you tomorrow! It's college Jersey day so get ready to show some school spirit!!

Saturday Ride

Last Saturday, Betsy, Sandy, Josh and I went for a long, and very pleasant, bike ride. We met in Georgetown at 9:30 for coffee and my mom's favorite breakfast burritos. I hadn't seen my parents since before we left for Florida (since June, I guess), so it was great to catch up. We talked a lot about bike plans and laughed at some scandalous(ish) stories of my dad's. We eventually got on our bikes, rode across the key bridge, and headed for our destination. In a hurry to get to our favorite (read: only one we've ever been to) bar in Old Town and watch the third place Women's World Cup match between France and Sweden, we stopped very little. We got there just in time and watched intently, drank beers, and ate food.

 

At half time, my dad and I took a quick ride across the Wilson Bridge and back. That is always a cool experience and, this time, I imagined what it'd be like to run over the thing. Probably just as cool and, obviously, much more difficult. We raced to get back and still missed the first twenty minutes of the second half. But it was worth it, in spite of the scrape I got on my arm (which Hadley tells me resembles Harry Potter's lightning bolt) from trying to ride in the "shade" of the concrete guard rail and scraping up against it as my dad and I got lost in conversation. Josh, on his own field trip at half-time, took this picture of the Bridge. I'll pretend that it was planned, and that we are some tiny little dots in the picture...

 

France lost which was a bummer but it wasn't enough to dampen our spirits on this beautiful day. We went for some ice cream and froyo and then took our time getting out of town. We stopped to watch a guy play what Josh has coined "wine glass music". It was awesome and very impressive.

We then rode alongside this guy, slowly moving along on his Penny Farthing, and laughed with him about all the people, including me, gawking and taking his picture.

On the way home, we stopped for a while at Gravelly Point, where Josh got a bunch of cool pictures. Every time I bike through here, I say that I want to come back sometime with this as my destination. To play frisbee or soccer or to picnic here would be so fun. So that is a new goal of mine. In 2011, before it is too cold, I will make a trip out of riding to and hanging out at Gravelly Point. Participants welcome...

We stopped in Georgetown to say our goodbyes and then Josh and I made the mistake of deciding to ride through town instead of on the Rock Creek Trail. After a long and super fun ride we rode hill after hill after hill in Georgetown, Glover Park, and on Reno Road. But really, it only made us stronger and it justified my drinking four beers later that night in celebration.

Besides making me happy, tan, and sweaty, this ride made me really miss biking. I do plenty of riding around the city but it is all for commuting. And commuting is great but I want to start reeeally riding more. I want to do a century with my dad and I want to ride to Mount Vernon. I also want to feel confident that I can successfully ride a bike 3,000 some miles across this country.

Cross Country Planning: Who wants to go?

The possibility of riding across America is very real. We wouldn't depart for at least 11 months but it seems that planning must begin soon. The first thing to do is to confirm who is going and for how long. I, no doubt, will be riding the whole way. And I will not be riding alone so my ability to pursue this is wholly dependent on the interest of others. Here is the potential crew:

Joyce: My best friend from college, who currently resides in Boulder, CO, where she is working on her masters in Environmental Engineering. We decided we wanted to bike across America together and that we would do it in 2012. We're still on track to make that happen. She will graduate in late May but prefers to start later in the summer so that we won't be doing the whole thing during the hottest part of the year.

Sandy: My dad, the original bike commuter in our family. He has [imaginary] experience riding across America, Europe, and Africa. He is retired but will be the chair of the board at our church next year so the timing is not ideal for him.

Betsy: My mom, the slow and steady bicyclist of the family who was the first to ride Ragbrai and the one to get us all back into it in 2007. She will still have a job next summer so will need to see about working pat-time from the road for a few months. She is the most organized person I know and loves to plan these things. So having her along would be a logistical dream.

Nathan: My brother. He is not into long distance cycling. He rides a fixie around Baltimore and he is pretty good shape given all the cigarettes he smokes. His role would be to drive the sag wagon and carry all of our stuff. And maybe bike some. At this point, he is probably the least committed. He may start grad school in the Fall of 2012 so his availability would be something like June-August.

Ingrid: My other best friend who currently lives in DC. She has a lot going on right now, including working a full time job and going to school to become a nutritionist so she wouldn't be able to ride the whole time but wants to do one or more sections of it.

Joshua: My boyfriend. There is no way in hell he is going to take 3 months off work and ride his bike 3,000+ miles across the country. He wants to continue his career, needs to hold down the fort in DC, and simply doesn't like biking enough. The big draw for him is the scenery and the photographer's heaven we would be exploring. So he may be interested in flying out and joining us for a week or several on a bike or in the car.

And there is me, of course. I need to see about taking a leave of absence from work but it is way too early for that now. I have no idea if this is even a possibility. I need to save enough money to pay rent for three months. And to pay for all the expenses along the way.

Right now, that is all. And I don't think we want it to be too big. Nor do we want it to be too small. Everything is up in the air but it's exciting that way... the possibilities are endless.

Time to Run

Ah, what a beautiful thing a vacation is. I have managed to run 5 out of 6 days that we've been in Florida. I haven't run that much... probably ever. Yesterday, running 3 miles of circles around Josh's mom's gigantic apartment complex, switching between road, sidewalk, curb (which I hear is good for your butt), and grass, I hurt my left ankle. I think the curb running is probably to blame. It still hurts this morning so I may have to take today off.

These runs have not yielded much writing material. They have consisted mostly of running on sidewalks alongside walls surrounding neighborhoods. They are pretty monotonous, especially when compared to the aesthetically pleasing routes I'm used to running in DC. They are also extremely HOT. Monday, not expecting Josh's step-mom to make a big brunch, I timed my run poorly and did a sweltering 5.2 miles beginning at 11:45 am. It was not something I looked forward to doing again. So Tuesday, despite dressing in my running clothes at 10, I procrastinated until noon when I convinced Josh to bike alongside me as I ran. DUH! I don't know why this has never occurred to me before. Not that it's something I'd request often because I realize that it is pretty ridiculous. But on a vacation, with plenty of time to kill, in a place where I don't know my way around very well, seemed the perfect time for Josh to prove how much he loves me by riding a little BMX bike 5.6 miles at a measly 10'03" minute mile pace. I know, this is horribly slower than normal but I blame the heat and humidity and I'm ok with it. And, running at 5 pm yesterday, I ran an average 8'59" mile so all is not lost.

5.6 very slow miles on this little thing.

Running alongside walls like this. Trying to keep up with boy on bike.

Hopefully my ankle pain will subside quickly and I'll be back on my feet today or tomorrow. And, though I don't want the vacation to end, it will be nice to be back on a bike soon as well.

Ideas

Tonight my brother said, "If it's not fixed, it's broken." He rides a fixed gear bike. And, though he was kidding, I think he's a snob. A hipster just mockingly confirming his hipsterness. But there's a lot more to him than that.

Tonight my brother also said he would travel cross country with me next summer. I am going to ride my bike and he will maybe follow me in a car with a video camera. I will write a book and he will make a movie. About the same experience. Our parents may join. It's all a new and crazy thing but it's something I've been thinking a lot about recently and it is something I am so so serious about.

And I want Joyce to respond to my most recent e-mail confirming that she is still interested in being a part of this adventure. After all, the idea was ours at first, thought up one afternoon last July as we rode our bikes alongside the cornfields. We've continued to talk about it and I know it will be a crazy time for her, with graduation and all, but I hope she's still as serious as I am. And as the rest of the Shaws are now.

Bottleneck to end all Bottlenecks

I have not opened my blog for a while. And it's sad to look at that little list on the side and see one post listed in May, one post that was written about 8 hours into the month. But I've neglected to write about some fun and exciting things because I've been putting off the surely exhausting task of recapping the Five Borough Bike Tour. But I miss blogging and i have other things I want to share so here goes...

Pretty much right away, we joked that we were participating in the 5 Boros Walking Tour because we were doing as much of that as biking.  Early into the ride, I literally had the thought, how am I going to blog about this without totally bashing the ride. By the end of the ride, I was so ready to bash. Luckily, two weeks have passed and I'm ready to be mostly rational.

From the getgo, there were far too many bottlenecks where we'd have to stop and walk or stand with our bikes. Two blocks in, as we turned onto 6th Ave. A few miles later, as we entered Central Park. Somewhere inside Central Park. As we left Central Park just north of the Gugenheim. Waiting to cross the Manhattan Bridge from Harlem to the Bronx. On some parkway by the Hudson. Waiting to cross the Queensboro Bridge. Arriving at Astoria Park in Queens. Leaving Astoria Park. Under an overpass in Brooklyn.

It got old really fast. But not old enough to make me want to bash the establishment. Not until we rode up the BQE, stopped and walked our bikes for over two hours baking in the hot sun while also chilly in our sweaty clothes, with nowhere to relieve our bladders, refill our water bottles, or RIDE OUR BIKES, did I actually feel that I had simply wasted my day. I went from being glad to be doing this once but know I'd never do it again to just wishing I had never done it.

At least we weren't far enough back in the crowd to pop a squat, or watch pee drizzle on the non-absorbent concrete around us from others who couldn't help but pop a squat. Others weren't so lucky.

Eventually, amazingly, we arrived at the bottleneck to end all bottlenecks. We got through it and we re-mounted our bikes. We rode onto and over the Verazano Bridge into Staten Island.

At the finish line festival, all the good food was sold out (surprise!) so we hung out for a few minutes and rode the last three miles to the infamous orange ferry, where we herded ourselves like cattle and emerged, free at last, in lower Manhattan. We left New York by car around 8 pm and were finally home at 1 in the morning.

I told lots of people about this experience and I rarely shed a good light on the thing. I have since received apologetic e-mails from Bike New York, explaining that the BQE fiasco was unusual and regrettable. I do feel bad because, in theory, I think this ride is so cool. It's not every day that you can ride your bike, or even stand, on a highway. That you can ride up 6th Ave, through Harlem, across five bridges, one of which is a loooong and serious suspension bridge. That you can be a part of such a movement, of 30,000 bicyclists making their presence very known and heard in one of the worlds most urban centers. So I want so badly to have liked it, to feel compelled to encourage others to do it. But sadly, I didn't and I don't.

I believe that they heard and appreciate all of the criticism about this year's ride. And I believe that they are working to ensure that nothing like the BQE traffic jam happens again. So I'm not saying don't ride the 5 boros. Looking back, I'm glad to have done this once. If nothing else, it makes for a good story- probably a better one than I'm telling in this rambling blog post. I'm just saying, think hard about what 30,000 humans and their bikes will look like on 42 miles of city streets, park, bridges, and ferry. And if you're a more chill, no frills, actually want to feel butt on bike seat kind of person then I have your answer: Ragbrai. Or just plan your own ride. I'll join!

Manhattan start

This is how far back we are in the mass of 32,000 people waiting to ride their bikes through the five Burroughs. We are at the corner of Church and Murray streets a few blocks north of Battery Park.

We're having fun eating bagels, talking to fellow riders from Salisbury and Maine, and wondering what perent of participants are local. We're also taking pictures and blogging as we wait for the 8am start!

I am sitting here on my parents couch, happy to have just learned that Florida is a number two seed in the tournament, losing feeling in my leg as I rest my knee on a frozen bag of trader joe's peas. It's been a long road to this day, less than two weeks before the half and I am scared and upset.

I am tracing it back to last Sunday, when I bought a new pair of running shoes for the first time in 20 months. I had been wearing LeeRoy since July 09 but was rarely running before October so didn't think it was a big deal. I did, however, think I should have a fresh new pair of kicks before the half. I bought pink asics, putting aside their ugliness for the more important fact that they were the most comfortable in the store and one of the two best shoes for long distance running based on Josh's iphone research on runnersworld.com.

I ran 5 in them on Monday and 5 Tuesday. Me knee hurt a little bit on Wednesday at work but no big deal, right? Wrong. I didn't have time to run again during the week, postponing my discovery of their ineptitude. I ran a quick 3 yesterday and was fine. But today, I left Josh alone to drive to our weekly Sunday dinner at the "Shaw Pad" (you can find it on foursquare) and I ran here. My knee hurt about a mile and a half in but it was ok and I pushed on. It went away and came back a few times but in the last mile (of six), it got pretty bad. I had a long steep hill to run up and it was really bothering me. Still, I kept running. I was less than half a mile away, in their neighborhood, running up another, much shorter, steep hill and there was some sharp shooting pain that made me stop. I just couldn't run. I kind of limped a little and whimpered to the top of the hill. Then I ran really slowly, awkwardly, and painfully the rest of the way because I refuse to accept that I couldn't physically run six miles. I was whimpering in pain the whole way and on the verge of tears in such utter frustration. I got to the house within a minute of Josh and started crying with him and my parents. I was so afraid that, after all this training and excitement, I won't be able to run 13.1 miles thirteen days from now. I have calmed down but I'm still nervous and frustrated. I don't know if I should blame the shoes but I can't think of any other explanation. It wasn't smart for me to wait three weeks before the race to buy new shoes. I am going to take four aleve a day, as prescribed by doctor Betsy, wear something on my knee, and switch back to my old shoes for the next two weeks. I am going to try not to complain or fret too much but I know how immensely disappointed I will be if I cannot succesfully complete this run. I ran ten and I know I am capable of running three more. Please just let my body cooperate.

Davenport's Mississippi River

My mom has many attachments to Iowa. Obviously. She grew up there, she went to school there, she has many many friends there. She lived in both college towns: Iowa City and Ames. But there is no place in the state that she is more attached to than Davenport, the place where she lived from ages 5-18, the place where she took her kids home to many times, the place where she goes for all of her High School reunions, and, unfortunately, the place where Ragbrai neglected to include in their route for the past four years. This is understandable, as it is a large state with many east coast river towns for the ride to end in. But, every year since 2007, my mom has planned on biking Iowa in July, she's been on the website the day the route is announced to see where it will take her. And since 2007, it has taken her to the Mississippi in Bellevue, LeClaire, Burlington, and Dubuque. Ending in Davenport is not the reason she rides by any means, but I'm sure it's something she hopes for every summer.

Well, if you can't already tell where this story is going, here it is: For the first time since 1982, Ragbrai is ending in Davenport. And, for the first time since 2006, my mom was not planning to bike Iowa. She and my dad have a three week trip to France planned in August, a week of which they will spend biking around Birttany. They thought they'd have their fill of summer biking but now they have to re-think everything. Despite the hassle, the oh so complicated logistics, and the need to work some this summer, my mom is trying to ride at least the final 3 or 4 days of Ragbrai XXXIX and dip that front tire of hers in Davenport's Mississippi River. She loves that town and the people in it. But now she's got me all confused as I revel more in the nostalgia of last summer's trip. Do I want to join her for a few days? Kind of. A lot, actually. In all honesty, it's probably not worth the hassle and logistics for me. For now, though, I'll remain optimistic. And I'll wish my mom the best of luck in her planning and optimism.

5 boros by bike

Yesterday morning, my mom so patiently signed herself, my dad, me and Josh up for the five boro bike tour in New York City. This is is a 42 mile ride through New York's five boros, beginning in Battery Park and ending with a "lively" outdoor festival on Staten Island. It is an annual ride, taking place the first Sunday in May each year. It is a carless ride and, based on it's history of having over 30,000 participants, I imagine it's a slow one. But the appeal of this ride is not the speed. The opportunity to see so much of New York City in such a real and unusual way seems hard to beat. And the commitment to an organized ride is uplifting for this cyclist (if I can still call myself that) who hasn't been on her bike in two months. Unlike Ragbrai, this doesn't seem like it will require much training, but it gives me something to look forward to and will inspire me to re-adjust to my hard bike seat and drop down handlebars. Besides, the groundhog has spoken: spring is coming early this year and that means dry roads and warm air for many warm-up rides in the city. This (nation's capital) city, that is.

MogulFULL Diamonds

It's been a long time and it's hard to know where to begin. This will be long and detailed and it will include variations of the words "ski" and "double black" and "mogul" many times. This is your decision point. Proceed at your own risk.

The day we got to Colorado, I called Erik to make plans. We had trouble making our schedules fit but he asked me to do something that completely transformed my attitude toward skiing for the week. He asked me to ski the Aspen Highland Bowl with him sometime before I left, something he'd had Ingrid do two weeks before while she was out there for Christmas. I studied it on a map and discovered that the highland bowl, the peak of which requires an 1,100 foot hike from the highest chairlift to get to, is super steep and complete with eighteen runs, all of which are double black diamonds. So began my quest to ski a double black and my endless dreaming about the deepest mysteries of the mountain.

Highland Bowl

Our first day of skiing, Sunday, was marked by a wild white-out blizzard. You couldn't see more than 50 or so feet in front of you. What a perfect day for Josh to learn how to ski! I kid. But also, it kind of was perfect because the snow was powdery so he didn't get going too fast. He face planted a lot but he also pizzaed a lot and that helped. Eventually he went inside and the rest of us had a wild day in the storm. I did one black by myself but it had been ten years since I'd been on skis and I was a little rusty. The snow was deep and fluffy and my legs were burning and it was wonderful. Legs, body and spirit happy and well worked, I fell asleep on the couch at 8:30 pm and I am not ashamed.

The next day it was cold. Really really cold. Our lift tickets went into hibernation for the day and we spent an hour skiing via the free fanny hill gondola so that Josh could get some more practice in. We went into Aspen in the afternoon and tried to have fun exploring but it was a little too painful to be outside. We met up with Erik for a little while and toured his studio, perused the insanely expensive ski shops, bought a sweet pair of vintage cowboy boots, had drinks and fromage at the historic Hotel Jerome, and went to the newly re-opened Red Onion restaurant for dinner and a viewing of the BCS National Championship game. We went home at half time and, right on cue, I fell asleep by 9 pm and slept soundly through the night.

Aspen Town

We were up and on the slopes bright and early on a sunny and freezing Tuesday morning. We all took turns skiing, reaching higher altitudes than we had in Sunday's haze. Dad and Nathan and I went up to Big Burn, the highest point in Snowmass accessible by traditional chairlift. Mom and Nathan and I went to the top of Elk Camp, from which we had a crisp purple view of the Maroon Bells. On our way down, we skied alongside the Hanging Valley Wall and it's many double diamonds. I marveled at them, took pictures, and looked them up on the map as if I believed I'd actually ski them sometime. Josh and Nathan and I finished the day on greens labeled "easiest way down the mountain" on the map. As we repeated this, we noticed how Josh had improved immensely in his three days of skiing. I got a little nervous every time he got too close to a chair lift pole but he made it down multiple times without falling-- a vast improvement! I felt pride like a mother must feel when her child learns and succeeds at something new. Of course, Nathan doesn't love Josh like I do and was a bit less entertained by multiple trips down "the easiest way down the mountain" and had to do what he could to keep interested. He took whatever little paths through the woods he could find and decided to attempt a jump that should have been meant only for those training for the upcoming X Games. I went first but I pizzaed the shit out of the downhill so I took the puniest little jump you've ever seen. We decided that my wimpiness led Nathan to be much more ballsy than he otherwise would have been. He went BALLS TO THE WALL on that jump. I don't know how it happened but he landed kinda face and hands first, legs spread eagle, and just slid down the slope that way. And, on the easy greens, entertainment was fully born. My only regret of the week is that I didn't video tape that jump. It is recorded only in the three of our memories and we are still laughing about it.

Hanging Valley Wall-- Maybe next time

On Wednesday morning, the three of us started the day off together, just as we'd finished it. Nathan decided he had to get it right and he attempted the jump again. This time, I was sure to have my camera running. The wimpiness kicked in, unfortunately, and his jump was as puny as mine had been the day before (even though he'll argue otherwise). What matters is that he didn't give up. When Josh went inside for a break, Nathan and I rode up to the Slot, our most notorious black diamond. This may have been the first black I ever skied back in 1998 and it was about to be Nathan's first as well. We skied to it's sign for a picture of him and he fell right off the bat. So we took his picture sitting down. He got up and he skied slowly and steadily. He had burning legs but he made it down and was ready for more. We went back up to the top and skied Campground. We cut off the bottom on Hustler, a supposed mogulless black. Little did we know, not all mogulless slopes had been groomed since Sunday's big storm and this huslter was very mogulFULL. This was  Nathan's first experience with moguls and, well, talk about burning legs. After the moguls, we went in to eat and veg. Of course, vegging never lasts long when you're sitting on a lift ticket that cost you $100 for the day and your day is quickly ticking away. Mom and Nathan and I went up to big burn and jumped on the new Cirque lift. This is a Poma lift on which you don't ever leave the ground but, instead,  put a little T-bar between your legs that pulls you up the mountain. We held our poles, gripped the bone chilling metal bar, and watched as we headed into this seemingly desolate abyss of blowing snow and sunshine. Turns out it wasn't so desolate. There were plenty of people at the other end. Some were all business, efficiently skiing on to the Cirque Headwall, Hanging Valley, and other double black diamonds of my dreams. Others were touristy like us, taking pictures of themselves with a John Denver quote or with the sign stating that you've reached 12,510 feet above sea level. And another was climbing, in his ski boots, up a hill in the distance to a gate with a sign we couldn't read. I didn't know where he was going but I decided to follow him. Nathan started to come with me but the altitude, the ski boots, and his tobacco poisoned lungs made him change his mind pretty immediately. I reached the gate and it was covered in signs signifying death and disaster. I had reached the edge of the ski area. Passing the gate meant entering the "back country" where dangerous (and I'm sure really crazy, awesome and spectacular) things happen. I went through and impossibly tried to document the beauty. I watched as real skiers planned their route down these untouched slopes. I never wanted to stop seeing what I was seeing in those moments. But I was being yelled at from far away, and rightfully so. I was holding up the others whose precious lift ticket minutes were also ticking away. I went down and we skied the only blue down from the Cirque. If I left right then, my trip would have been complete. But we weren't leaving and I still had to ski that double black. That afternoon, I became independent and skied some good blacks by myself. I explored slopes that my cousin told me were harder than the double blacks she'd skied. The first was called Free Fall Glades and for good reason. It was unbelievably steep and covered in moguls. I stopped one turn in to take pictures and that was a bad idea because I became even more acutely aware of my situation and my knees and hands began shaking. I put my camera away and skied. I didn't stop, I just went and by the end I felt more adrenaline than I have in a long time. I was yelling "fuck yea" and "woooooo" more from the heart than I ever have. I was so elated and tired and proud and I knew at that moment that I'd ski a double diamond before the week was through.

Thursday, we skied a half day so we had to take full advantage of our measly four hours on the slopes. Dad and Nathan and I went out and did the Slot and Campground several times over. After a while, the two of them went in to meet my mom and I stayed up top. I did my free fall glades again along with a few others in the area. I tried traversing these woods between the slopes that Katy and Tony had written about in their recent guest book entry. That was scary and not something I want to do again alone. I was riding up the lift, looking at the map and picked out a short little double black called Buckskin that started on Sheer Bliss, the run I'd be on. There were a few others before it but they'd all be longer so I should hold out for this one. Skiing Sheer Bliss, I got to KT Gully, the first of these double blacks and just kind of gazed off at the mystery. As I was standing there, a ski patrol came by and roped off the run. He then skied on to close the next one. It was 2:45 and all these doubles were being shut down for the day. Well shit, I had finally decided to go for it and now it might be too late. I hurried on and got to Buckskin before he did. I skied by the sign without even stopping to have second thoughts or to take a picture of myself with it. I just had to get in before it closed. I did get in and was immediately scared for my life. Not only was it steep as shit but it was entirely in the trees. Lucky for me, my little ski patrol friend came in to rope off the slope and chose Buckskin as his way down the mountain. I told him shakily that this was my first double black and I was fucked. He said I could either take my skis off and hike out or I could follow him down. Follow him I did and it was awesome. What a treat to have a free lesson on my first double diamond run?! My mom and I skied blues the rest of the day and for the first time that week I was so ready to be done by the end. In a good way.

Buckskin is in those trees in the center there

Friday Friday Friday. It had to come even though I hoped it never would. Though the Cirque trip on Wednesday was hard to compete with, Friday takes the cake as the best day of the week. It was just full and perfect. Nathan and I skied together pretty much all day. We stuck mostly to blacks. And we did another double black. It was called Powderhorn and it wasn't too too hard it was just really long and full of moguls. Go Nathan! This little boy who hadn't skied since he was 9, who has a completely different body than he did then, who looked awesomely ridiculous in his purple thrift store onesie and 40 year old ski mask comes into the week never having done a black and here he is finishing his first DOUBLE BLACK DIAMOND. It was great. My mom and Dad took the day off but I finished it up with Josh, who had made it onto little blues by then. Unlike Thursday, I was not ready to be done. But we were and we'll be back.

We did other things besides ski, of course, but not too many. We swam in the pool and sat in the hot tub, we drank beers that went straight to our heads, we saw a man my mom had been watching since the 1970s do magic, we had a few good dinners out, we also cooked in a lot, we went to town at the Aspen Thrift Store, we watched a lot of Friends, we took pictures and played games, and we slept a lot. The family time is valuable, the hot tub is relaxing, and the exercise is great, but the spectacular view of those mountains and the love of skiing are what will keep me going back to Snowmass. Next time I'll make sure to bring my shovel and probe.

*I never skied the Highland Bowl with Erik- all the more reason for a return trip asap!

Sweet Dreams

Tonight, I'm dreaming about memories like these:




Leichenhearth Number Nine

 


Ski Love




babetastic shades




Santa always found us...




Colorado Shaws





hey neighbor

 


Nathan, is that you?




such form



weird kids for life




PIZZA




FRENCH FRIES




Oh, if I only had a pink onesie ski suitand fanny pack at age 23




the coolest








Tomorrow, I'll see what's changed in the past ten years and I'll begin creating all new snowmass memories. SWEET DREAMS!