Location: Snowbird, UT Photographer: JR Lindsey

"Wasn't the forecast supposed to be warmer today?"
"It's a high near 21 or something."
"Yeah, yeah, but it feels like negative two degrees in this Antarctica."
A rainbow majestically forms a circle around the deceptively glaring sun. Glitter falling in pounds from the sky. Wait, that is just the snow. Headphone in one ear, it's bumping beats and rhymes from Cali P that seem to infuse my blood system with vigor. Skis meet the ground and the chair circles around behind us as we merge into the small crowd of pink-cheeked faces off the lift. Poles looped on hands, boots buckled tighter, game faces on.
"Do you smell those chili cheese fries?"
"Is that seriously all you think about?"
"Lets hit that floater off mid-baldy traverse again, that way we can cut across to that lip, too." A slight chill mixed with adrenaline infects my blood system now, I think my stomach just did a cork 3. On our way across to the floater, my buddies are laying out some 180's off cat tracks and dodging the zig-zagging-out-of-towners. A mental picture trickles into my mind of the run-in and landing. It's perfect for a hand drag, a long trail to a massive roller that can send you. The landing isn't too soft today though. The play-it-safe-angel and do-it-without-thinking-angel on my shoulders have a quick duel. The latter comes out champ. Trees whipping past on both sides, my red carpet entrance. Tuck down the run way. Stomach does another cork 3. FOCUS. Three more seconds. Lean, fingers graze the snow, ah, does that feel good. Hips rotate, tips spray snow like confetti as they find the landing. Stomped. My arms shoot up in victory, which, of course, after the perfect stomp, throws me off balance and I end up white washing myself.
"Nice crash landing!"
"Yeah, yeah, so smooth."
"Laugh it up, chuckles." I flick snow off my ski towards them and push off to head to our next hit, wind stinging my eye-wrinkling-grin-face and chilling my teeth.

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