All that powder. White, pure and inviting. Just begging you to come out and play in it.....
Oh, its all fun and games until you can't move the next day from the soreness.
I had no idea how to ski 13 inches of fresh un-groomed snow. But last Friday I was in the life line 30 minutes before the mountain opened waiting to take my first turns. Because that's what you're supposed to do when you live in the mountains. You go to bed early on snowy nights so you can eat powder for breakfast.
And so, while the other true mountain peeps were racing off for the "good stuff" (read: steeps) the slowest triathlete on skis got first tracks on the main run under the lift. Where I was heckled. For not skiing fast enough. (not kidding -- dudes yelling from the chair "ski faster" -- my slowness is universal)
Which would have bothered me were it not for the fact that I was concentrating very hard on not face planting into the the giant down comforter laid out before me. Because like I said, I HAVE NO IDEA HOW TO SKI POWDER.
Those in the know describe the experience as "bouncy and fun", but no one told me it was so much work. Love your job kind-of work....but work nonetheless.
When I called it a day somewhere around 2:30pm, I had all I could do to get my jello-legs to stumble to a bar stool. Perma-grin still in tact. Feeling the best kind of total body exhaustion. With just enough energy left to swap a few powder stories with my other perma-grin wearing friends.
I'm certainly still an intern in the office of powder, but I'm pretty sure I love the job.