Monday, March 19, 2012


Home again.

I've always thought I loved skiing because of the time spent outdoors.
The clear air, the heart-breaking beauty of a frozen landscape, the tired muscles, the rosy cheeks, the initial clinking of glasses at a well-deserved apres.

But on this trip, I realized why I really love to ski.

Each day, there is always one run.
The run where you stand at the top and your heart skips a beat or two.
The run where fear and self-doubt scream at you to climb the other way.
Arms out, lean forward , down you go.
Well.....because you can't exactly go back up.
Then the magic happens.
And before you know it, you've conquered your fears.

We had a fantastic trip and were truly spoiled.
Apparently Whistler is quite beautiful?
I never did get to see.
We were blessed with lots of powder, which meant poor visibility.
I'm only left to guess at how beautiful it really is.
I think I'll just have to return again.


Sue McNenly said...

Too funny. It's like Lake Louise. On a blue sky day, it is the most breathtakingly beautiful place in the world, with the turquoise water surrounded by majesty. On a cloudy day with the mountains obscured, you might as well be at a know what I mean:)

cserdan said...

I know!!!! Everything was the dullest shade of gray.

The runs were spectacular (and looong). My legs certainly knew they were on a big mountain.