One of the hardest things for me to live without is skiing. Not even pure skiing, just the mountain life in general.
Of course my family is my number one.. but this I think this is my number two.
I'm sitting here right now with an aching body thinking back on how good this day was.
I love every single pain I can feel, being sore and having a good story and memory to look back on makes me happy.
Today I skied like I used to ski, we made our own lines, we pushed our limits, we hurt ourselves, we drove with our ski boots on, we got taken out by trees.
That used to be a good day for me.
I used to want to spend every single free day I had up on that snow.
Seeing the boys be in their zone, knowing the mountain, chatting up the workers, seeing the kids they once thought ripping it all up.
Being the local that I once was. I lived for it, spending five days a week up there was normal if not too little.
Today I relived what it is like to hike with all your ski gear on, to dive into the snow like you are invincible.
My legs, my butt, my back, my shoulders.. my everything aches and I can't wait for more.
My fingers and my toes are still tingling, the cold was getting unbearable at one point.
It's just proof that we went for it, even with the sun taking the little bit of warmth that we had with it.
I still have the mountain air buzzing through me.
These mountains are my happy.
The sky to a bird is what these mountains are to me.
