Happy 4th of July!
So, what I did on the 4th: NOTHING! After three days of pure play, I laid low. Ryan got a hall pass to party at the annual July 4 Parade on Park City’s Main Street this morning. He called me at 4 p.m. trashed and wanted to get together. Anyone who knows me, knows that being around drunk guys when I’m sober ain’t cool. I told him to enjoy the day; I was going biking with Stef and would watch the fireworks show tonight.
The trails are drying out and because I’ve got the raddest Specialized MTB- the Women’s Pro-Stumpjumper- I am finally looking forward to rides around these here hills.
I almost went skiing to celebrate the holiday. Snowbird closes today but I couldn’t find my pass. But I did haul Ryan up to Snowbird on June 26. He whined all the way. He complained that he was done with skiing. He “wanted to mountainbike. but yet again, Jill gets her way.” I told him that he could bike any old day this summer but how many times would he be able to ski? Unless he had a trip planned for New Zealand or South America that I didn’t know about, the answer was ONE. Today, June 26, 2005. We made it on-hill by the crack of noon. Skiers, boarders and sightseers in flip flops shared our tram space. Despite the infectious positive energy, Ryan still looked sore about not getting his bike ride. I reminded him that skiing is good for the soul; especially when it’s 75 degrees, reggae music’s wafting from the Plaza, you’re in a T-shirt and sunglasses and the snow still covers Great Scott. After 10 turns in Little Cloud Bowl, I saw that smile planted squarely between his reddening ears. The one that said, “Now what were we talking about?” The one that said, “What troubles?”
For just a few hours, we were sharing runs and forgetting the workload, the bills, the phonecalls we had to make, the bike ride that wouldn’t happen today. It was April in June; soft, spring-like corn snow on the upper trails and sticky mush as you approached Little Cloud chair’s tiny liftline. We even forwent the tram download, opting instead to ski/hike our way to the base for one last hurrah. The mud patches we squished through provided that reality check. Winter is over. Almost overnight the slopes will cater to wildflowers and hiking trails… and mountainbikers. We now have four months of sailing, rock climbing, kayaking, running and biking ahead of us. Season ski passes are already on sale at some resorts and a few eager (i.e. fanatical) ski freaks will use the summer months to cross train. Not me. Now that we have storage-waxed our skis and boards, forget about them for awhile and live in the moment. Our Utah summers are short. It’s time to hit the dirt!