Arnold in Repose.
This is how it's been for us. And by us, I'm talking about Arnie and me.
We've been kind of sleepy. Lazy. Sick.
Well, by "Arnold and me," I guess I just mean, me, because, really, Arnold seems totally fine. Poor guy can't really walk himself, though, so he's forced to suffer alongside his mama....
Part of it, I think, has to do with the winter feeling fragmented. Skiing has been inconsistent at best, and truthfully, I don't really mind. I've had a few wonderful days out there, but some mornings I wake up and am uninspired. I've been kind of into yoga and CrossFit and climbing, and when I'm sore and tired from those, the thought of skinning up Flag just to get a glimpse of my partners' backs as they drop in is not appealing.
I mean, in some instances, skiing is always awesome. Here in the Wasatch, we are so lucky to have a group of capable, motivated, skilled female skiers always ready to go skiing, always ready for a big day. I find that skiing with my girls almost always appeals to me, even when the thought of skiing with male friends - including Brad - has me hitting snooze and pulling the covers over my head. What is it? Why is it so much easier for me to be a part of a she-ski-group?
Polly and I talked about this a bit the last time we were out. For me, it has something to do with guilt. The guilt of making other people wait for me. The guilt of not being as good as the others. The guilt of not wanting to ski big days all the time, not wanting to ski dangerous lines....And so on.
The thing is, though, my girlfriends are really fast. I'm slower than most of them just as I'm faster than some of my male friends. Likewise, plenty of the men I know love short easy tours, and lots of the women I know want big, steep days everyday. So why have I drawn this line - this arbitrary determination of what is ok and what is not - according to sex? If I were honest with myself, I'd make these decisions based on actual experiences and not just run my mouth about skiing with men. If I were smarter, or maybe just more logical, I'd realize that my fast friends wouldn't call me to go skiing if they didn't mind waiting a few minutes at the top of a climb. I'd realize, maybe, that the guilt is stupid and does nothing but hurt me. It's not productive; it doesn't help the situation.
But it's hard to shake.