The month of May marks the end of the winter season for me, a month filled with spring turns with friends, long overdue rest, and a natural reset. There is a sense of relief—those who have turned their passion or hobby into a business get it. If you haven’t, you think I’m an asshole. Both might be true, and I’m ok with that. I will not miss the pressure I put on myself to work seven days a week and the resulting inability to be fully present in other parts of my life. Even if the people around me haven’t, I’ve become accustomed to what it means to run a small seasonal business tied to whether or not it snows. My work, just as my personal life, is driven by the seasons, and while it’s hard to say goodbye to the best season of the year, if I want to keep my relationship intact, it might be time.
As I made my final run off the summit at Mount Bachelor yesterday, I thought about all the things I do during the winter that make me unbearable, all of which revolve around my love of skiing powder.
First, there’s the obvious boasting that winter is the best because anyone who skis powder knows this as fact. This annoys people who hate winter, which only makes me double down.
Then there’s the powder program, which I did not create, but it’s a way of life to which I’m more than willing to pledge my allegiance.
Here’s how the powder program works in my house, in case you’d like to compare notes:
On any given morning during winter you will find me scurrying through the house, toast falling out of one side of my mouth as I scream POWDER PROGRAM, hopping from the living room through the kitchen to the door (a whole 15 feet) to put a sock on before I step into my winter boots because only people who are not serious about winter sit down to get ready. Powder is precious, and it’s the best thing about winter (besides it being dark at 5 pm, evening baths, and no one expecting you to leave your house).
The powder program frenzy does not start the minute I wake up. (This statement is debatable, and it’s possible that my girlfriend just spat her beverage out reading it.) I like to think that I ease into it as I hobble out of bed, a hand on one hip as I limp from the bedroom to the bathroom to the chair where my TREW bibs live (chair available for your sitting pleasure in summer but not a moment before or after). There is a calm before the storm, but honestly, once I’ve had a sip of coffee, it starts, and really, it’s best to just get with the program or walk away.
—>Do you also have an annoying powder program? Tell me all about it in the comments.
The irony is that I struggle to walk without pain because I am dedicated to the powder program, and now that I think about it, there’s the spring corn program too. Perhaps all I need to do is find the phrase with perfect alliteration that evokes my excitement for spring skiing and then I’ll be unbearable for two seasons and not just one. And this gets me thinking—have I been too hard on spring?
As I contemplate trading my powder program for whatever alliterative spring phrase I can conjure (sunny slush sessions doesn’t really roll off the tongue), I'm reminded that seasons change for a reason. My knees certainly agree. There's something beautifully cyclical about putting away the winter frenzy—the early mornings, the half-eaten toast, the POWDER PROGRAM battle cries—and allowing myself to reset. Maybe being unbearable for just one or two seasons is my gift to those who love me. Or maybe spring is just winter's way of telling me to take it easy, rest up, and remember there's more to life than face shots and first tracks, at least until next winter, when the program inevitably begins again.
xxoo,
Jen
🚵♀️ May 24th, Ladies of the Loam: Yay bikes! I’ll be popping up at the very first all-women's mountain bike enduro and festival in California + offering free simple bike repairs. Get the details here.
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