Dear Skiing, I Miss You

There was an advertisement on Pandora just now - to send in the song that "inspires you on the slopes". 

Ahhh. 

The slopes.

I miss the slopes.

I miss skiing. 

I never did get particularly good at it. 

I always shied away from the difficult runs. 

Regardless of how many times I did it, I was always sure I was going to fall off the lifts. 

But I miss my ski pants. 

My blue, sequined beanie.

My piggy tails.

My red, Elan skis.

The sound of my boots (the ONLY ski boots I've ever seen that could fit over my calves) clipping in.

The feeling of the lift on the back of my knees.

The chatter of Japanese teenagers.

The lift men in their long purple coats who always inquired after the other gaijin.

The lunch break of ramen noodles or beef curry.

The freezing wind on my cheeks.

The crunch of the snow as I tried to convince everyone watching that yes, I actually needed those carving skis...

Pretending that anyone, including me, could be Lindsay Vonn (sans spandex).

Plus, I always looked super sexy.

Here's proof (what happened right before this picture was taken is a story for another day):