This week started off with The Great Ski Race (aka the "Tahoe Olympics"). Me and 1060 of my closest friends on a point to point course stretching 30 kilometers with 1,600ft of climbing. I did this race with only 4 days off skate skiing under my legs this year and as a result I really felt like vomiting for the first 10k of the race which just happens to head in the ever popular, yet oh so demoralizing, uphill direction. My situation actually improved once the course stopped climbing and leveled out a bit. As the Jimi Hendrix came through the headphones I was really starting to think that my day was turning around, my form was getting better and my breakfast had finally worked itself into a spot that didn't want to see the light of day again. Unfortunately, that feeling only lasted for a short time as the reality set in that I'm NOT a ski racer and if I was going to finish this race without totally blowing up and crying for my mommy, I'd better back down the pace and just except the fact that I was going to get passed by other skiers.... and plenty of them. In the end, I managed to cross the finish line with a respectable time, albeit while sliding on my back after crashing at a high rate of speed on the final descent. I still suck at descending on the skinny skis.
The scene in front of me at the start...
...and behind.
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