Post Ski Season Blues

It's mid-April, and I find myself hitting my post ski depression. I am going through all the ski bags,  pulling out smashed granola bars, rotten carrots and old hand warmers...doing laundry and then, hanging out all the zip ups, coats, vests, race suits and neckies.  Then, it is time for the final emptying of the Thule box and loading up the garage with what feels like 100 pairs of skis and poles. It's a shit ton of work but definitely satisfying to not have to look at the ski bags scattered all over the house. I am so done.

Race season is officially over for us, and I have already spent April so far freezing my butt off at various LAX and soccer games. Many a cold mornings on a field I have caught myself thinking, geez, today would be a good ski day.  On a day where it's a whopping 40 degrees and our behinds are stuck to metal bleachers, I think, well, on the mountain it would be mashed potatoes by noon anyway so we're really not missing anything.

I'll also make jokes that thank god it is over because I don't think I could handle all the jetting around, packing up and unpacking and 8 hour days at a mountain in the cold. I also will say it is so time for it to be over because towards the end of the season, my ski pants start to get a little snug from all those adult apres moments you don't get on a lax or soccer field but you relish in those long cold ski/race days.

The irony is that I am not a die hard skier by any means. I pretty much married into what my husband calls "his passion". I never was a winter girl; I use to spend the miserable 6 months of New England winter counting down to the days it would be "doable" to freeze your butt off at the beach in a bikini.

But then, when we had children, Jamey started teaching the girls how to ski once they were old enough to walk, and they immediately took to it and shared their father's love. Combine that with many days put in night skiing with their grandfather...a passion was born. And so, with much begging and pleading by our two older girls, we joined a race club and so began the winter rat race.

What I discovered once my girls started racing, is that there is so much more to it than the sport itself. It lends itself to have some pretty special and unique qualities.  Don't get me wrong...it is hard work, and I mean hard work...as an athlete, as a parent supporting the athlete, and it is a lot of blood, sweat, tears and $$$...but this crazy sport that is unlike no other for too many ways to list (for this post) and some I cannot explain, it is special, and it creates memories and experiences unlike any other. And so the dreaded April is upon us, and it is over...my April post ski season depression sets in.

I miss the excitement of loading up the car and going away every single weekend. I miss the discipline and the organization it takes to get all those meals ready. I miss seeing the same faces back and forth from the parking lot to the mountain and back...even if I don't know them all well, I know them...we are in it together as we drag another set of freshly tuned skis back to the lockers. I miss the knots in my stomach as we watch all our racers come down on race day because they are ALL our kids, and we all get so nervous and excited watching them fail and fly.  I miss the hot Irish coffees at the top, and the cold, hard ciders at the bottom at the end of a long day. I miss seeing my ski parent friends, and I know my girls miss their winter best friends. 

It will be a long spring but once the summer heat sets in, it will sweeten the sadness and longing I have for those cold, blustery days at the mountain I feel now. And before we know it,  September will hit,  and we will be pulling out the equipment to see who has grown, who needs what, and we will be counting down the days to opening day. And then, when those first leaves start to fall, I will breathe a sigh of relief that yes, winter is coming.....