My legs are weak despite my training. I am dehydrated despite all best efforts. Pre-H1N1 influenza demons have jumped from my children to me but the chills will not keep me from the pow that March day in ’08. Aaaa, acetaminophen.
My new boots help hold me upright. I talk to no one on the chair to save energy for the ride down. I am high and low, out of and in body all at once. Tears of ache and joy mix with the melting pow blowing up on my face from secret stashes hidden in the trees. I am flulike, but happy to be alive that day at Alpine regardless.
Submitted By: Chris
