It was time for another birthday and the possibility of a Ski Walk of Shame loomed over my head. I know, I know, nobody cares. The Lycra-clad skate skiers don't care! The Man in Retro Gold Tights doesn't care! I'm the only one who cares.
While 45 degrees in January is troubling, we managed to find some snow at Anthony Lakes. Everybody and their brother was there, basically because there's no snow anywhere else. It was fun to ski out on the (hopefully frozen) lakes. As I skied out there I wondered, why is nobody else out here? Maybe better not to ponder this and keep going.
|This is Hoffer Lakes. I snowshoed up to this one. Skiing down the very steep trail would have entailed a Ski Walk of Shame for sure.|
|Oh what's the name of this lake? I can't remember. It's by a little campground.|
I'm not sure why sometimes everything aligns and other times it doesn't. Sometimes you make it to the top of the mountain, sometimes you don't. You bonk, or you don't. You walk with your skis or you go for it. You can trace it back to fuel or water or lack of rest days or whatever, but sometimes there just seems to be luck involved. Some days I head out for a run totally dreading it, and it is the best run ever. Other times I bounce out the door and shuffle defeatedly along. One of my best runs ever was after I ate two chocolate chip cookies for breakfast.
Who knows what we are capable of? All we can do is ask and find out.