slopes of blue.

I've been super busy outside of work lately, so I've clearly been slacking on the blog posts. But alas, I have returned. With burning calves and thighs.

Yes, that's right. We did a weekday ski session at one of the "trash hills" of lower Michigan. After some struggle with improperly fitting boots and some tears shed at my overreaction to rope tows, I managed to suck it up and get some better rental boots... (Wides, nonetheless. While "wide" shoe sizes certainly don't correspond to the width of your ass, I still felt like a cow for needing them. Moo.)

Wait, tow ropes? Yes. Unfortunately, trash heaps in Michigan generally don't have a lot of options on runs and lifts... There are a handful of slow lifts that take you to mostly black diamonds, with some blues and greens sprinkled in, and the rest of the green hills were accessible by tow rope only. And I can only do green. Yeah, I know. But give me a break... This was my third time skiing ever. And I am kind of a baby.

So yeah, this was only the second time I've attempted a tow rope in my life. Both times I ended up with my skis sickeningly twisted, me flopping around like an idiot and the tow rope halting. Never. Again.

The unfortunate part is that I can do chair lifts, no biggie. (I mastered that daunting task on the last ski trip Up North a few weekends ago. Before that, I was consistently taking out two grown men trying to assist my jelly legs down the tiny decline. "Just hold our poles" technique does NOT work.) But only one lift went to a "blue" hill.

So after the freak out and boot change, we moved to the chair lift, easy peasy... Until I got to the actual hill top, looking down. I freaked out a little bit, CONVINCED it was steeper than the last (and only) blue run I had done at Boyne. V in turn laughed at me, and insisted it was fine, "same thing". Well after doing a 90 degree pizza slice down the run a few times, I was dead. Nerves frayed, thighs burning. Now I'm walking around like an idiot because I can't fully flex my legs...

Come to find out the next day, I double-checked the trail map. It was a blue hill. My first blue hill, without my knowledge or consent. Did V know? Probably, but he refused to comment...

So I've been betrayed. Betrayed and sore, but happy. :)

Oh, and as soon as this wedding business is out of my hair (and bank accounts), I'll be purchasing these BA skis... Can't wait!