Jessica Smokes Her Dad at Yet Another Sport....

Thank goodness there are still climbing and skating.

Yesterday we went to Liberty, for the first time in 2 years; last year there was no winter, and even 10 days ago they have only sparse cover. Though Jessica took to skiing like a duck to water, dad was able to stay ahead, relying on a deep base of ice skating skills and considerable effort. This year I got smoked.

• I've laid off everything for 4 weeks, trying to get a rib to knit. The rib is better, but the legs were mush. It's different from biking too; high intensity rather than endurance.
• I was being careful. I didn't want to fall, so I was less relaxed. But I did ski blues and blacks all day with zero falls, keeping up with the squirt until near the end, and I feel good about that.

Late afternoon, after having serious thigh cramps--so bad I had to lay down mid-slope and stretch--and preparing to call it a day, I joined her at the top of a double black diamond with a particularly steep start; about 200 feet at 45-35 degrees. Crampons would be required for accent, no way I would hike down it without them. Like looking down an icy staircase. I had already decided I would only watch. We watched a half dozen good skiers start down, sliding and falling, and groping their way down until it leveled out to a more human slope. Then Jessica mumbles some crap about it looking too hard (like she heard dad mutter before many rock and ice climbs--a private inside joke) and easily carves down the escarpment, like it was the bunny slope, with nary a break in form. I went off to cry.


Well, actually, I did take an straight forward black down to the lodge--I'm not that dead--where upon I had a medicinal Stella and waited for nightfall.