Beach Boys, Snow and Wintergreen…
I can remember walking to school, up hill both ways, in feet of snow unable to feel my fingers or toes with the strains of “California Girls” playing over and over in my head or on the Walkman I would carry everywhere with me (do you guys remember those bulky Walkmans!?!). The Beach Boys put into lyrics how I had always felt growing up: I wished I could be a California girl. I hated the cold.
When I came to VA for school in 1997 I couldn’t be more thrilled to find myself in t-shirts mid-novermber and being one of the few people completely at home driving in the minimal amount of snow that accumulated every year. Until I went skiing. Wintergreen is the resort just north of the little town I’ve inexplicably grown roots in. The first year we took to skiing, a group of us college kids migrated up the “mountain” (obviously people here haven’t been out west or they might rethink that title) to ski. I should have brought skates instead. The entire mountain was like a Popsicle and my Canadian blood longed for the powdered snow in the sub-zero temperatures. Instead of battling through the less than ideal conditions I gave up skiing altogether and along with it most sports I had grown up doing.
My athleticism lay dormant for nearly 15 years after getting to Lynchburg, barring a brief stint in roller derby. I maintained a workout regime until I became deathly ill three years ago and I think being brought back to life and meeting someone who breathed life into my athletic past brought me back to the mountain and rekindled my passion for sports; most especially skiing.
Today I sit at the Coppermine, where I should be grading thirty papers, but instead am musing over the life I once led and the footprints that my friends and I left on this mountain so many years ago. The relationship between snow and I has been mended and I have fallen back in love with the very thing that chased me south of the border. I must return to paper grading though so I can get on those hills and ski!