Restoration

Ever year we I go up to Sugarloaf with my Mom and her "band." They play guitar and fiddle. It's a whole weekend of nothing but skiing, eating, and music. I wasn't feeling well (probably the result of a warm turkey sandwich I ate out of desperation on the plane home Thursday), but I didn't want to miss the weekend. Saturday, I went downhill skiing. They had gotten 36 inches of snow the weekend before and conditions were as good as they ever get. It was an intense day of skiing. I was skiing with family friends, who are avid back country skiers, and we met up with a group of their friends, one of whom was a fellow Olympian. We were skiing all the double diamonds, and we were doing them fast. By the time I hiked to my car at 4 pm I was exhausted. But the good, I've pushed myself to the absolute limit exhausted.

Sunday morning, we got up early and went cross country skiing. Normally, cross country skiing is a consolation prize for me, when I don't have the time or money to go downhill. But exhausted and still feeling sick, I found it to be exactly what I wanted. It was the perfect temperature to be comfortable, but no so warm that the snow was mushy. The sun was warm, and the trails had just been groomed. I had a waltz that we played the night before playing in my head, and I was skate skiing at an easy pace to the beat. There was no one else around. Just me, the soft woosh of my skis, fresh air in my lungs, and the trees. Perfection. Restoration.

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