The mountain called, I went.

I know I haven’t posted in a while. I promise you, it is not because I have “writer's block”. I have just been busy. Honestly there is a plethora of topics that I want to write about. I just don't know where to start. It really is an epic task. So my alpine racing season is officially over (today was the Loveland derby). Alpine wise, I didn’t preform my best, however this was definitely my best ski season yet, and I honestly feel like I am skiing better than I ever have before. I started doing Skicross and let me tell you, it was the best decision I have made thus far in my life (Yes, I am aware that is not saying all that much). I met so many incredible people this ski season and was able to shred with so many good friends. From Austria to Colorado and everywhere in between, this season has been one for the record books. I really wish I had taken more photos and videos (and blogged more) so that I could create my own edit but, alas, I was lazy and don’t have much video or photographic proof of this epic winter.

Since 7 is my favorite number here is a list of the 7 best parts of my ski season and a list of 7 thank you’s!

            Ski Season 2014 Highlights

      1.     Being privileged enough make the trek out to Colorado 3 times this year

      2.     Watching the World Cup openers in Solden in person

      3.     Spontanious dance parties at the start

      4.     Ski Cross NorAms at Sugarloaf

      5.     USCSA Nationals

      6.     USASA Nationals

      7.     Van ride trivia

            I could not have done it without you:

      1.     My Parents- I mean you made me… and pay for me…

      2.     My Roommates- Thanks for helping me pack, bringing me stuff I forget, pretending that you don't care when I am incredibly loud ridiculously early in the morning, and putting up with the mess that is me during ski season (and the entire year) and all the accouterments that of my mountain lifestyle.

      3.     My Teammates- Thanks for being the best teammates I ever could have imagined!

      4.     Each and every one of my ski friends- despite the fact that there are no friends on a powder day, skiing is not nearly enough fun alone!

      5.     My coaches- for putting up with all of my crap

      6.     The MacConnell division coaches for all of their incredible support this season!

      7.     My teachers- Thanks for bearing with me throughout all the missed classes.

      So the only video I have from ski season is below. Little girls, truth or dare, a crowded copper lodge and a swede. Need I say more? Sorry Anton! (you were a beautiful ballerina though!)

Bode.

So first of all lets pretend I didn't fail at writing more blog posts for my trip to Austria. Whoops. I decided earlier this morning that I would make a new years resolution to post more, then I realized that doing that was just another form of procrastination because I would start posting more in January. Well I am making a resolution to post more now. Take that procrastination. Ha. The topic of this post was going to be about racing this past weekend, but I was slow. Really slow. So luckily my bud Bode gave me something to write about. Now don't think that I didn't find Ted’s run incredibly impressive, but there is a soft spot in my heart for Mr. Miller.

Bode.

            Picture little 4’ 10” 75 lb me sitting on the floor of my parents bedroom in NY long before I had ever ski raced. I was a freshman in high school and pretty darn impressionable. I still remember sitting on the salmon pink wall to wall carpeting watching Bode’s face on 60 minutes flash across the archaic 32 inch boob tube nestled in the built-in shelving of my parent’s bed room. I was completely mystified by the man on the screen. The iconoclast in front of me was breaking all boundaries, kicking ass and taking names. Honestly that's when I knew I wanted to race. To me Mr. Miller was a true underdog defeating the odds. I spent the following days closing the sliding door to the homework room, off the kitchen, so that I could pretend I was a ski racer being interviewed on 60 minutes in peace. I kid you not. I had dreams about ski racing. I knew what I wanted. And I wanted it badly. I did countless hours of research on both Bode Miller and sport. By the time the Olympics started, that winter I knew more about the rules and athletes competing than many seasoned veteran fans. The obsession had begun.

            As time went on and I entered the sport many controversies about Bode and his lifestyle ensued. I never wavered. To this day I hold Bode in the highest regard. Not because of his lifestyle, but because of his grit and strength of mind. The only role model I have ever encountered who has had an even stronger affect on me is my father, and I can tell you, nobody will ever top his unwavering wonderful influence on me. So when I was driving back from Stratton yesterday, evening as my copilot and teammate refreshed the Beaver Creek results, I had a smile stretched from ear to ear. To say I was happy could not be a bigger understatement. So here’s to you Bode. A 30 second dance party in your honor. #bodeisback faster than ever.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4gSwL-qhLZw

Austrians are OBSESSED with Avicii

For the record, my entire time in Austria Levels and Wake Me Up by Avicii were alternating. It is safe to say the Austrians are obsessed.

Below is the extremely long account of my trip. For the next 5 Days I will post an installment about the details of my trip (you get to read about two days today, because the first day was so incredibly boring it wouldn’t be fair to only post that today…)

So as I sit here writing about my trip to Sölden from the Innsbruck airport I am beginning to realize that I am taking a significant risk, because the trip is not yet over and I could be leaving out some intensely interesting details. I have made the executive decision that I will continue to write and will update any actual readers by editing the final installment of this post. I am not convinced that anybody actually reads my blog post, unless I specifically tell him or her that I have posted a new one by tagging him or her in a Facebook post. Well I will not be doing that for this post, I will post a link on my Facebook but I won’t be tagging anyone. I guess this will be a good test to see who actually looks at my blog (or doesn’t).

            I guess we will start with day 1: Day one begins rather boringly. I wake up, study for my midterm at 11:30. Go to class from 8:30 to 10, and then again from 10:15 to 11. I then suffer through a grueling international business management exam where I answer 25 multiple choice questions and write 4 (yes I said 4!) essays in an hour in 15 minutes. I then sit through the longest feeling class I have ever encountered (I don’t think it helped that it is a class on how to do and income tax) from 1:30 to 2:15. I then sprint back to my apartment change into some suitable travel attire, load the car, drive quickly to get my forgotten long underwear and outlet converter. Speed to the airport just to get stuck in traffic 2 miles from the airport, thanks to my handy travel companion Elfred, my GPS, I took the carpool lane which saved my ass. Check in at the desk and manage somehow to avoid overweight baggage fees on my 67lb bag. Stand in line at security just to reach the checkpoint and be reminded that I cannot bring my water in my Nalgene through so I am forced to chug it while everyone laughs at me. Solid. While waiting in the airport I try to send an essay that won’t send creating a large amount of stress for me and quite a spectacle for the other travelers watching me struggle and curse at my laptop. Sweet. Board the flight and sit next to a 50 something year old lady with a nice Rolex on one arm and a Cartier watch on the other (2 watches, I kid you not) and a very nice Hermes Birkin bag. If this hour-long flight had first class, she would have been sitting in it. I’m not quite sure why she didn’t have a private plane. She seemed revolted by my large backpack and ski boots. It didn’t help that the overhead was full so all my shit had to fit under my seat. De-plane in Toronto and walk through some very nice art sculptures to a place that sells poutine directly across from my gate, stuff my face for 5 minutes and board the long flight over the Atlantic. Much to my surprise, the flight is not full and I get a row to myself. Close my eyes, day 1 is over. Not riveting, and not exciting in the least. The trip has begun. Sweet.

            Day 2… Land in Munich. Feel sick. Dehydrated. Whoops. I always underestimate how shitty long flights make me feel. Chug water. Attempt to communicate with a customs agent on how to get to my gate. Fail. Walk to the wrong area. Walk back to the right area. After I go through ticket check area at the gate I go down some stairs and through a basement corridor that doesn’t look like its for passengers and onto a bus.  Ride on the bus for a solid 15 minutes across the tarmac passed some sweet massive double decker planes to a 20-passenger propeller plane. Now, I’m not scared of flying, but this did unsettle me just a bit. Wait in the bus for another 5 minutes while some guy gets out of a Porsche cayenne and boards the plane. Get on and fall right asleep. Wake up as we are flying over a mountain. It looks pretty close but I think to myself “its probably not really that close” then I see some sort of antelope and I can make out the ridges on its horns it is so fucking close! Now I’m seriously freaked out. I can’t stop thinking about that darn discovery channel show about the world’s most dangerous airports. I’m fairly certain that Innsbruck was not one of them, but I can only remember that one with the beach next to it so I’m not quite sure. Luckily sometimes a rough approach leads to a smooth landing. Deplane. Bus, to train, to Bus all the while struggling with my massive ski bag. No seats on any of these vehicles. Arrive in Sölden. Score! Nap. Bib draw. I’m not quite sure that I can do this bib draw justice. It will definitely be a test of my subpar writing skills. So picture a small area about 10,000 square feet filled with people shoulder to shoulder. A ton of people. Like I mean a ton of freaking people. The bib draw is pure awesomeness. The announcers are speaking a ton of different languages and everybody is cheering and drinking. There are cowbells and horns, buzzers and megaphones. Music the whole time. Dinner after the bib draw. No English. Ordered some meat thing. It was good.  I then proceeded to have one of the best nights sleep I have had in recent memory.

Please excuse the formatting difficulties, I swear it is trickier than it seems.

Thanks for reading! See you tomorrow!

Life Lessons Are Best Learned On The Side Of A Mountain

So I sat down to write this post about everything skiing as taught me. Being true to my nature I seem to have taken on a task that, simply put,  is to arduous. So in order to make it to bed at a reasonable hour and keep my sanity. I have decided to write the top 3 things that skiing has taught me ( please excuse this post's sappy nature, but I am currently listening to the acoustic version of Wake Me Up, and feeling oddly sentimental). Interestingly enough I recently was assigned to write a paper about the top 3 things I have learned since the start of my college education. Even more interesting was the fact that when all was said and done with that paper, not a single thing that I wrote down was learned in a formal educational setting. This paper was also the very first of my college career in which the periods were not grossly enlarged and that I actually wrote more than the bare minimum of the length requirement... This leads me to the first thing I have learned from skiing...

1. The most success is achieved when you are madly in love with what you are doing. It is not a secret that skiing was my first love. I can work for hours on end at just about anything skiing related, without batting an eye. Ask me to sit down and write a paragraph about just about anything else and I will procrastinate like no other. Take this post for example, I am actually enjoying writing it! (say what?) I never thought that I would enjoy writing anything. Anything.
2. Life isn't black and white. It isn't all about winning and losing. At some point for every single racer, the competitive racing ends. No matter what level you race at, it will end at some point. This simple fact has lead me to believe that it can't all be about winning and losing. After racing is over, there are no clocks, no start wands and no finish lines. It's the many shades of gray that make life interesting. Skiing is no different.
3. Friends make everything better. Well duh! This point is short because, well really, what can I say that will illustrate this more perfectly than skiing down a run with a bunch of your friends, all smiles from cheek to cheek. Come on, seriously, what is more fun than a Chinese downhill when no one is looking?

So in the words of Aloe Blacc "So wake me up when it's all over, When I'm wiser and I'm older, All this time I was finding myself, And I didn't know I was lost" Yes, Aloe Black actually wrote the song and sings it on the Avicii Album. Mind= Blown. 


Goodnight ski friends!