Ski Bug

The best ski day so far - looking out over Ghost Basin and The Crags

I skied a few times when I was a kid at Alpine Valley in Elkhorn, WI - a stunning hill with 388 feet of vertical. I remember getting really into the notion of skiing around my 14th birthday after a class trip took us up for the first time, but then I also remember the ensuing horror of falling hard and nearly tearing my meniscus. The pain goes down as on of the few really painful experiences I can remember (and this comes from me - concussed multiple times with too many stiches to count). The result of this experience was that I never wanted to ski again and was massively weary. Ever since I've tagged along on winter trips to ski resorts with my family, as skiing is one of my grandpa's favorite pastime; I opted to snowboard after the knee scare and was pretty horrible at it so the experience was always rather mediocre. On top of that, dealing with crowds of people isn't exactly my forte and the price tag that came with just a single day of semi-misery was hardly worth my while. If given the opportunity I'd stay home and hang out with any injured or exhausted parties. In short, the highlight of these trips was family time, not resort time.

All this changed just about a year ago when my roommates Erick and Ashley, got me a backcountry ski rental for my birthday, insisting I give it a go. With an ever growing fascination with any form of mountain travel, the idea of backcountry skiing sounded way more up my alley - no crowds, pristine snow, and the majority of your time skiing UP rather than DOWN. I knew I'd be fine skinning up; but was nervous about the down. I convinced my self it was just another form of snowshoeing, just a little faster on the way down. 


Badass - Ashley (in wedding dress) and Erick bombing down
mountain after getting hitched

My gift of a rental sat unused at first, but after watching Erick and Ashley tie the knot on the mountain at Steamboat Resort I started to feel a little itch. Riding the gondola back down after their ceremony and watching Ashley, a former nationally ranked snowboard racer, absolutely fly down the mountain in a wedding dress sealed the deal: it was time to ask Erick about a backcountry ski outing.

My first skin into a winter camping trip a weeks later set the perfect tone. I arrived at the trailhead with a guy named Dan and we started our trek in to meet the remainder of our party at 11pm. The sky was perfectly clear, the moon so bright that using a headlamp would have been a joke and the trees had a stillness that that didn't make you think twice why the area was called "The Sacred Trees". Even with reservations about having to actually ski down the following day I knew I was in trouble - I had taken the bait hook, line and sinker.

I rented skis once more last spring right as the ski season came to an end and went out with my friend Brady and our pups to confirm my decision that backcountry skiing was god's gift to those desiring winter play in the mountains.

I managed to piece together a relatively cheap backcountry set up by early December and have now been out skiing with a whole lot of friends and dogs several times this year. Each time I go the love grows a little more and the shape of my skis leans more and more towards French Fries rather than Pizza. Its beginning to feel like months between each weekend as my excitement to get back to the top of Cameron Pass grows. Its Tuesday... only 4 more sleeps until a Saturday ski tour!

Bikes

When it comes to talking about bikes, I struggle. No matter how I spin the matter, bikes came to me at a critical point in my development and shaped me for better.

While I don't have hoards of childhood memories, I distinctly remember learning to ride a bike in a Costa Rica parking lot. My bike's name was Scrappy and as I tentatively began riding circles without training wheels for the first time, I remember nothing but sheer joy and a stranger hanging out the window of his home yelling to me, andale! andale! go! go!

From there bikes took me up and down curbs in my neighborhood, on summer adventures with my sister to Chicago's lakefront for swims, to my first triathlon, to school because the bus was too slow, on Critical Mass rides, to rebellion, Yojimbo's Garage and alley cat messenger races, to really discover and know my hometown...

Life sort of changed for me when I started to race bikes in ernest. I found focus and passion and dedication and the meaning of hard work. Bike racing became my escape. My freedom from the city, my fears, my worries and my awkward high school years; my way out of the world I knew and my first vehicle to travel, adventure and new experiences. It wasn't till I found bikes that I found friends and people I truly understood. I embraced cycling, set goals and went after them.

Then something crazy happened - something I wasn't prepared for and something that in hindsight totally freaked me out: I moved past my goals and into a realm of cycling that I much preferred glorified in the form of posters on my wall. At 18 years old and away from home for the first time, entering this world was alluring and I was intrigued by the ambition of my peers, boys and the vagabondish lifestyle the sport offered. I dove in without knowing exactly what I wanted and quickly, became utterly lost.

It's taken a long time to dig myself out of the unexpected hole I found myself in post bike racing. I crashed, burned, returned and even once I retired from racing in 2010 it wasn't until 2013 that I for the first time was able to stray fully from bikes as I entered school and a new direction. I realize sport will always be an important part of my life, balance and sanity; hence my adoration of running, but today was an interesting day as I was both happy and sad as I stepped back into bike world for a brief moment.

CSU CX National Team - such a fun time with these girls!

I raced the US Cyclocross Collegiate National Championships today in Boulder, CO for Colorado State University. I arrived to the race ecstatic. I hadn't ridden a cross bike on a proper course in more than a year and was giddy to race for the school that I love. Additionally, I've become really good friends with the CSU team's president, Kate, and was pretty much just psyched to be racing with her and the team.

After sorting out a bike to ride for the race from my friends at SRAM, I headed to the start line with my late friend Amy Dombroski on my mind. I had a pair of lightening bolts socks on my feet in support of her foundation and hoped to ride a few laps of the course in her honor - remembering riding some of the very same trails together before she passed this October. It was amazing racing again. So incredibly fun and exhilarating and nice to think about Amy while doing the sport she lived and breathed. The race was a definite high and I felt nothing but joy and happiness for Amy, for my CSU teammates, for all the old friends I'd bumped into throughout the day...

Dombro was one of a kind. So missed by so many.

After the race I volunteered on course, walking the perimeter of the race fixing course tape and broken posts. Walking around gave me time to think and I ended the day feeling sad, lonely and lost. Lost friends, lost passion, lost way. While I know everything in life happens for a reason its always interesting confronting the reasons and remembering the past. I am truly happy and wouldn't change a single thing in the path I've traveled but I guess it comes down to the fact that you need to remember the lows to appreciate the highs.

Today, I remembered it all.

Potential

I like the concept of resolutions. I see them as a point at which one can step back and try to better themselves. While in the past I've made lofty goals and insane plans of certain, unobtainable success this year I'm happy to report that my excited feelings for the new year might actually be aimed correctly. Instead of the do this and don't do that mentality that comes with my nature to plan life down to the wire, I've come to the conclusion that its the potential that drives me forward. This potential I embrace whole heartedly. Plans are made and broken; the exciting notion revolves solely around the ever present potential to live your dreams, see new sights, feel new things, test your comfort and take yourself to greater heights. While I hesitate to call this a revelation, it is albeit a feeling that I'm welcoming as it settles in. 

The combination of dreams, desires, necessity and commitment prove challenging to navigate on their own but as a collective potential the concept seems much easier to embrace. There is no point in isolating one component from another. Life is a jumbled mess but it can be taken as a complicated, depressing struggle or as a fascinating, exciting and risky endeavor. For this year I choose the later. 

I'll accept the things I cannot change but I also won't sit one the sidelines wishing and dreaming for the stars to one day align. I'll make mistakes, apologize when needed; alternately stepping forwards and backwards alongside the cues. I'll embrace the things I love with out doubt or logic but let go if I need to as well. It is ultimately little more than the potential that excites me, if not for one thing then another. Life is too short to waste wondering.