Loving Winter

I’ve been back in Minnesota for almost 18 years now(!) and haven’t left. It’s my longest stretch of staying in one place by a factor of three, maybe more. The last few years, winter has really been on my last fucking nerve — shoveling, falling on the ice, cars that won’t start, etc., etc. I’d been thinking about getting the fuck out of here for warmer/milder weather, but then something happened recently.

Specifically, I discovered snowboarding. I got out a few times in January and March of 2019, one lesson and an abortive attempt to try it on my own. I kinda liked it, and thought about maybe getting more involved. In November, because I work at Erik’s, I was able to assemble a good entry-level setup on the cheap, and get it ready to rock. Then the holidays happened, and now it’s January. I’ve had two more lessons, and I’m a lot more confident in what I’m doing.

Yesterday, I was out at my lesson. It was like 4°F, with windchills around -14°F, and I was excited to be out there. Like legitimately excited. I showed up early, and was on the hill practicing the previous week’s lessons before the instructors even arrived. The cold? Didn’t matter. I had my first moment of flow, and the cold wind and the falling snow wasn’t even remotely on my mind.

Holy shit. Do I suddenly love winter? Or at least not hate it?

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