I Know I’m Not Dreaming, But Sometimes It Feels Like It-

Crossing the continental divide, en route to a last second determination of St. George, UT.  I had been pushing for Moab with it’s memories of trips past, La Salle Peaks, slickrock trails, college style bonfires, but with the forecast looking all too similar to home, Jen and I are going to keep trending south to the odd but inviting town of St. George.  I feel more and more free with each degree of latitude we shed.  Don’t get me wrong, winter has been incredible, and just to remind us of who’s boss, he decided to tempt a delayed start this morning with 9 fresh inches on the hill… But alas, I want to see reds and oranges more than I want to see two chairs in front of me.   Thanks to some fresh new music from Foster the People and a stunningly beautiful and smiling travel buddy, I think this spring break could trump all other’s to date, since I found out mid trip last year that our spring break was indeed a “wedding and honeymoon”. 

Before we trip into the future, perhaps a quick recollection of the past could be of some consideration.  Jen introduced me to a new and very fascinating concept- “Birthday Week”.  Think about that unique day of the year where it feels good to be excessively self-centered then multiply it by 7!  What’s not to like about that (so far I haven’t lost any friends or family members in the wake of it)?  It began with the mother of all surprises that will continue to give life for decades to come- a Rancilio Silvia espresso machine and buddy grinder.  Walking into a trail of hints and beans on the floor (resembling a trail of a bunny with poor sphincter control) my Monday evening transformed from a beer and bed to a scientific experiment into pulling my first shots.  I’ve never been a huge fan of instruction manuals, but this was the one true exception I’ve made and it proved my theory- instruction manuals are worthless.  By 10:00 p.m. I successfully pulled my first shots, though it took over a minute (30 seconds is the sweet spot) which yielded a very potent and slightly bitter cupa.  I could barely fall asleep that night in part from the caffeine and in part from the excitement of waking up and spending the day experimenting with grind courseness and tamping of the “puck”.  The week carried on and crescendoed with a weekend foray to Big Sky where I finally got to “slay” the Big Couloir and toured up into Beehive Basin with Jen for a near summit and some fun/safe powder turns.  Reality hit hard the next day when I spent most of the free time I had the following week toiling on home improvement projects in the basement.  People generally say there is no such thing as a “good time” to have a kid, but I think what they really mean is there is NO GOOD TIME EVER to do home improvement projects.   Multiple powder days and coffee shop relaxing have been spoiled by this basement overhaul we’ve been working on for the last month.  But despite my griping, I’ve found myself actually enjoying the work on occasion and I do believe it will be a huge face lift for the house as well as an enjoyable place to chill when the summer heat nukes the upstairs.  Minus the overwhelming amount of toxic fumes I inhaled, it was actually a good forced taper for the final Skimo race of the year, The Dogtooth Dash- Canadian Nationals. 

Taunted again by winter, we left town last Friday morning despite the fact Biggie just had the biggest dump of the season on top of Thursday, which was probably the finest morning of lift riding I experienced all year.  We started off the morning with a meeting held by Whitefish Mountain Resort and the USFS considering the current and future uphill travel policies on the ski hill.  Fortunately, we the public were invited for input and suggestions, unfortunately, we will undoubtedly lose more privileges to be replaced by more regulations.  Despite the frustration, it only fueled a mediocre 9^th place in Friday night’s “vertical race”- which consisted of 2700’ of mostly low angle groomer climbing.  Turns out I’m no match to some of the nation’s top ultra runners and Nordic skiers when they get on equivalent light rando equipment.  It was humbling.  I had to seriously fight back the negative thoughts, thoughts of quitting the race, quitting the sport, quitting competing in anything and embracing the fact that I am simply a mediocre athlete chasing silly conquests.  But I managed to meek out some positivity and convinced myself the real race was Saturday and I still had a shot at a decent showing.  Sure enough, I surprised myself with being first out of the gate after the lemans start at the top of Kicking Horse and began a high-speed tuck to the first transition.  I managed to stay with Reiner, Nick, and Eric (my apparent arch nemesis) for the majority of the first climb, then found myself slightly distanced but able to close back down the gap to a tired (he organized and coordinated the race so justifiably exhausted) Eric and continued to work away at the rest of the course with him.  We were both shocked by the strength Reiner who was transitioning to the last climb a ridge over while we still were finishing the second to last climb.  It was yet again a great battle to the finish and yet again, I lost it in a sprint.  I was still elated though as I felt great all race and was more than content coming in 4^th in a strong field of competitors.  I was also stoked that I could mentally and physically unwind from a good season of training and racing Randonee and take a breather before ramping up for the upcoming biking (and now running- say whaaaa???) season.   On Sunday we shared a splendid day of riding lifts and boot packing peaks with friends we’ve met through races and it reaffirmed that the most enjoyable aspect of “competing” is the community you become networked with.  Creating friendships with people you may not see for months but when you do there’s instant recognition and someone who enhances your experiences.  To boot, for less than the cost of a lift ticket for one day at Kicking Horse, we had two races, two day passes, schwag, and a killer party Saturday night.  I will say that was the craziest I’ve seen a group of people who regularly don spandex get since Rolling Thunder!  Shout out to Stano, Eric, Andrea, Max, Ian, Hammer Nutrition and Kicking Horse Resort for the best weekend of racing yet!  Amazing course, great organization, good deal, and painfully fun.

Now, after another week of chipping away at the basement project, Jen and I are going back to a place we fondly remember vacationing together in our first year of dating.  The big question is, when we wake tomorrow and head out on the bikes, will it be a trail of tears like our first time was?  Or will it be blissful trail ranging?  Will we be awake, or will we be dreaming?  Guess it will depend on whether the tears taste salty!