I know, I know, I promised you a blog post about the Year of the Undrafted Free Agent (Linsanity!), but I have been too busy…wait for it…skiing! That’s right, I’ve gone back to my Colorado (fake) roots and channeled my inner ski bunny this season. For those of you who are not aware, I used to live in Summit County, Colorado (or as I like to refer to it, the ski bum capital of the world) back in 2003/2004. I was in my early twenties and didn’t have a care in the world. It was a beautiful time in my life. But as we all know, all good things must come to an end. And an end they did. As I started law school in 2004, I was only able to make it up to the mountain once or twice a year. Then I went an entire season without going up. And then you slip into this rhythm of excuses not to go up because the ski-bug has somehow escaped from you and you start complaining about an old ACL injury or the price of lift tickets now that you no longer have the hook-ups that you once did. But then that glorious day comes when you decide to stop being lame and start skiing again.
When I’m not lawyering (or working out), I work at an amazing ski shop (California Ski Company, holla!) in Berkeley. This gave me the motivation I needed to get my butt up to the slopes no matter what the cost. My friend Stephani’s birthday became the perfect storm—partying with friends and skiing like I’m 21 again. I made a few calls, got to demo some amazing skis and had a great time despite the obvious lack of snow this winter. There’s only one problem—now I have the bug.
I need to go up again. And one time isn’t enough, the season is almost over so I need to go up every available weekend. And weekends aren’t enough. I need to go up during the week. Play hookie. Do whatever it takes. Rent a car, get a dog-sitter. It’s like my brain is about to explode with rejuvenated exuberance for this thing that used to be so much a part of my daily routine. I imagine it is comparable to falling in love for the first time after a bad breakup. You almost forgot how good it can be.
And so now my wallet, my liver, my 30-year-old knees and my heart seek only one thing…to be a ski bum again. I have been looking through Reno craigslist ads for odd jobs and rentals. I’m considering just packing this life away and returning to Colorado even. Maybe being a ski bum wasn’t the momentary pause in my life. Maybe that IS my life, or what my life was meant to be, and these past seven years of lawyering was the pause. Maybe it’s time to hit “play” again…