the gnar

In the quest to ever improve and go big, this snowboarding season was momentous. Now, some will cry, "The season is far from over, brah." While that may be true out west, 'round these parts 'tis true. When four feet of fresh snow become a lumpy, packed mess, my season is done. Wisp was great last weekend, but it would have been amazing had I been there soon after a fresh snow.

Back to the point of the post at hand. After my third season of riding, I failed to meet her prediction/challenge, "You'll be better than me, and I'll be sad." Season one, the goal was to spend more time upright than not. I think I met that one, despite fracturing the pedicel of one of my vertebrae and inducing traumatic spondylotheosis. The following year, I quickly remembered how to link my turns, carve in the local parlance. I started rocking blue runs like it was my job. This year looked like it was to be epic in growth. My size (comparative to my better half) and seeming lack of fear should have combined to make the student surpass the master.

Well, this year, peer pressure kept me off the trails and put me in the terrain park. No Shaun White tricks up my sleeve yet, but I did land a jump or two. Ending the season running black trails and goofing off in the park was still improvement. I run the blues with certainly more speed than last year and am no longer intimidated by a diamond.

The best part of this season by far was riding confidently with her and my friends. I got to hit up two new resorts and ride outdoors after our historic snowfalls. I no longer feel inferior to most on the mountain. I'd say I'm somewhere near average. I may never be stellar, but that's not my goal. Never was.

Since I can't climb outside much in the winter up here, I may as well make the best of it. Now, a climbing spring is afoot. I have less than three weeks until Horse Pens 40. Time to break through the plateau and send some projects...