Remarkably Unremarkable

Sunday Punch
Sunday Punch

I was not planning to write about my latest early season outing. My journey is continuing in a positive direction. The veil is slowly being lifted; my tale continues to be recast. But there was nothing remarkable about this day.

Yet, that is a remarkable thing to acknowledge: things are getting back to normal. It is normal to go skiing twice during a weekend. It is normal to do that two weekends in a row. It is normal to get a lot of ski days during November. It is normal to look forward to those days.

It is normal to want to write a new post about the journey.

It is remarkable how far things had gone the wrong way. During the past few years, I tried to come to terms with the new normal. It didn’t seem possible to feel any other way. It didn’t seem possible to feel anything. It didn’t seem possible to do anything about it. It didn’t seem possible to do anything.

What changed? I found small pieces of inspiration in interesting places. I realized that I couldn’t do it by myself. I got help. And I encourage anyone who has stared down that abyss to do so as well. If for no other reason than this: reaching out for help cannot make things worse, but it could make things better.

I look forward to getting on with it and continuing to set things right.

Affirmation

Can Am
Can Am

“Why do I do this?”

The question was made in jest as I exited my car and felt the zero degree temperature. It was really an affirmation rather than a question. If it were to have been an actual question, then I would have thought the answer was self evident. Last year, that was not always the case.

Every season, I debate whether or not to purchase a season pass. By the time the lifts open, I seem to forget that I invested in a long term season pass worth of gear years ago. The only additional expense is the cost of fuel. I frequently forget to factor in the cost of not using my earned turn season pass more often.

Can Am
Can Am

Time Changes. I Resist.

Upper Sunday Punch
Upper Sunday Punch

The plan was simple: when Daylight Saving Time ended, time would change but my daily routine would not. Instead of gaining a one-time extra hour of sleep, I would wake up and go to bed “an hour earlier”. The time would change but I would not change with it.

The only challenge was not lapsing forward into “new time”. That entails waking up everyday at 5:30am, even on weekends. Especially on weekends (a good habit during ski season). Equally important is maintaining a 9:00pm bedtime to ensure I do not push my internal clock forward into “new time”.

Lately, YouTube has taken too many hours away from my life without providing much positive benefit. Endless video recommendations auto-play until I get tired and go to bed; sometimes when I should have, often far later. Which would be fine if it was improving my life and the behavior was intentional. It wasn’t.

You do not magically gain an extra hour when you wake up an hour earlier. Not literally, anyways. You just move a block of awake time from the evening to the morning. But if that hour changes from passive screen time to active intentional time, then I have gained much more than an hour. I’ve gained part of my life back.

Narrative

Vermonter

Big Jay

A narrative is a story or account of connected events. The narrative of every ski season varies significantly year to year, but each season’s narrative always includes a beginning. Let’s call today the preface to a new narrative.

My own narrative became contaminated. I developed a false self narrative and I followed the script off a cliff. The story began to frame me instead of me framing the story. The narrative no longer felt like my own. But in an insidious way, it still felt like I was writing the story. A default program stuck in an infinite loop; the story would not progress, the next page could not be turned.

I cannot control the narrative of the ski season. But I can (exert the illusion of) control (over) my own narrative. I can choose how to present the narrative arc of the protagonist. I can stop the record from skipping incessantly. I can lift the record off the turntable and break it apart like the problematic unconscious self narrative that was endlessly repeating in my head. I choose to recast my tale.

Buddy's Bench

Upper Milk Run

Reach out for help.

And then reach for the next sheet of paper, reach for a pen, and start writing again.

Reach for a summit that once inspired you and then open yourself up to be inspired again.

Deconstruction

Upper HardScrabble

“What was I expecting?”

The thought came to me about half way up a pseudo-skin track on Upper Ravine. A few inches of wind slabbed snow had mostly covered up the skin track, but a faint outline was occasionally still visible. Getting off the track wasn’t horrible, but staying on the invisible balance beam was much more enjoyable.

I turned back and to my right. Looking up to Mount Jackson, I could see a fellow skier descending the Saddle having skinned up via Mittersill. I was not completely alone which lessened the isolating feeling of knowing that you are fucked if something goes wrong. It was simultaneously comforting and annoying.

“What was I expecting? I deconstructed everything. What did I expect was going to happen?”

Upper HardScrabble

Twenty years ago or so, I started saying “the only way you can understand anything is to question everything.” But the logical conclusion of doing so is knowing everything and nothing at the same time. Paralysis. The world would be a better place if things happened based on knowledge.

But knowledge doesn’t cause things to happen. Feeling and drive and motivation and passion make things happen. Knowledge didn’t make me skin up Cannon without a partner three times during this past week. Not very smart, but a helluva lot of fun. Skiing might be the last thing that I have yet to deconstruct.

The one final aspect of reckless abandon that I have left. I treasure it.

It will not be deconstructed.