I wouldn't have even considered heading out to ski. Temps had been pretty sloppy, and when the back yard is a swamp, it's tough to imagine there are decent ski trails anywhere. If not for a buddy who is relentless in her quest for snow, I'd have missed this: snow as thick and well-set as a January trail.
March skiing is always a paradox...with temps in the 30s skis have great glide, but in the late season my fitness is always on the downslide. So, I kick back in my upright stance and yet find myself moving forward effortlessly. We stop. We chat. We remark on the day. We talk about the remembers: Oh god, do you remember two years ago when we skied here then headed off to that state park with the crazy scary classic trails? AND THE BREAD BAKERY down the steep concrete steps below old Main St? with the fresh-out-of-the-oven chocolate chip cookies?!
It's the skiing equivalent of the lazy slob who rides the expensive road bicycle.
But performance is the furthest thing from a March skier's mind. Training is done, racing is overwith, and one more day on the boards is everything hoped for.
-OB one more!