Tamara Miller: Who needs a ski season?
Vail CO, Colorado
Anyone want to borrow my skis for the season?
I’ve also got a nice pair of ski pants and a ski jacket ” both are less than two years old and ready to wear.
My ski boots are up for grabs, the poles are on the table and I won’t be needing my helmet either. My goggles are a little beat up, but they’ll work for anyone in a pinch.
While most of you are plotting out your ski season, calculating how you can afford those new Volkls and still fork over the $870 for a merchant pass this year, I’ll be picking out knitting patterns and stocking up on yarn.
And when the season opens you’ll see me on the sidelines, six-and-a-half months pregnant and knitting a baby hat.
Participate in The Longevity Project
The Longevity Project is an annual campaign to help educate readers about what it takes to live a long, fulfilling life in our valley. This year Kevin shares his story of hope and celebration of life with his presentation Cracked, Not Broken as we explore the critical and relevant topic of mental health.
I honestly don’t know what it will be like spending most of the winter not engaging in my annual ski season traditions ” creating yard sales on bump runs, trying to convince my husband to give the blacks a rest and join me for just one run on Cloud Nine (God, I love that run. Don’t know why.) and scouring the base of Beaver Creek for the guy with the chocolate-chip cookies.
I’m seriously considering skipping this year’s Warren Miller flick; no need to feed my missing-out complex.
But we are positively elated about having a baby, and that why I’m trying to come up with all the reasons why NOT skiing could make this my best winter yet. (Just indulge me.) These are my thoughts:
– Much as I love skiing, I absolutely hate wearing ski boots. So instead of having to force my feet into cold, stiff and tight plastic, I’ll be sporting nothing but comfortable footwear this winter.
– Now that I think of it, I hate trying to figure out what gear to wear for the day. Sure it’s warm at my house at 9 in the morning, but who knows how it will be at the top of ski hill around noon? I’ve never guessed it correctly. I’m either sweltering the entire day because I put on a 800-fill down coat and ice-climbing gloves or shivering on the lift with my paired-down fleece coat and gloves.
– No more feeling guilty when I don’t meet my self-imposed skier day quota. If I get 10 days in this year ” all of which will have to occur in the spring after the little one is here ” I’ll be plenty proud.
– Now that my doctor has banned me from the slopes, my husband can no longer complain when I suggest we forgo a precious weekend day to go snowshoeing instead.
– Alcohol is off the table, too, which means I won’t have to adopt that funny walk you get after spending a day on the hill, an afternoon at Los Amigos and an evening of tromping back to your car in unbuckled ski boots.
Granted, I’m going to feel pretty left out when my co-workers talk about the “epic day” they had on the hill last weekend, but I’ve got a lot more “epic” things to look forward to.
And there’s nothing to prevent me from scouring the base of Beaver Creek for the guy with the chocolate-chip cookies.
Opinion/Projects Editor Tamara Miller can be reached at 748-2936, or firstname.lastname@example.org.