I...I...I'm stunned.
Truly, the air's still shimmering for me, oxygen isn't getting all the way up to my brain.
Assuming my brain hasn't already leaked out my ears, as it is wont to do when it undergoes shock treatment of this intensity.
Holy fuck, someone remind what the fuck I've been worrying about my entire life?
Who da fuck cares?
I woke up at four o'clock this morning.
Intentionally, yes. I even got to call someone at that hour, woke 'im up so he could drive over in the world's BIGGEST FUCKING WINNEBAGO painting a neon yellow with a Montreal skyline superimposed 'pon it, and we were off, catching the sunrise as we approached the border to Vermont and veered off up to Owl's Head.
The place where I sprained my knee on the first run last year and didn't even get to ski.
Wellllll, THIS year, after standing outside at seven in da am in awe at the minitiarized (it was THAT cold out, 30 below or so) snowflakes suspended in the air as if someone had thrown the biggest handful of sparkles straight up and they'd stuck.
Well, after snowflake watching, and breakfast, and hugs and the usual whooping and wailing, I hit the slopes.
I had energy, french toast and sausages and coffee, my boots were on, my snowpants were nice and loose, and my hat hung down my back to me padded arse.
I headed up the main chairlift, only to find out that there were no easy runs that ran from the top of the hill.
Ooooooh, fuck, guess I'll try an intermediate first thing, eh? What the hell, I'm alone, s'not as if I'll be slowing anyone down...
...well I dunno what it was, the thrill of being outside again, the extra strength in my legs from the gym, something in the air, but I tore up that slope, and on my way up again I met a terribly charming old man named Renaud (in his 60s, which didn't stop his hitting on me, but hey) who prompted me to try a double-diamond.
So I did, and I tore up the snow again following him down. I left marks in the icy patches, I swerved between chairlifts.
The kids on the ski team were on the way up the lift that I was soaring by under, and I could hear them cheering all the way past.
See, I'd told them that I couldn't ski, in fact, I was sure that I couldn't.
But my dear new fried Renaud had another idea about it, and pretty soon we were blazing trails between trees, over the edges of the groomed slopes.
I was chasing other people down, knocking great big tall Hans over with the snow I sprayed at him.
I think at the speed we were going, I managed a good twelve runs in three hours, and by eleven and a quarter was inside gulping down sports drinks and briefing the team for the afternoon's work.
From noon to quarter to two, I was on the race course, doing my usual routine of flipping kids like flapjacks, and dancing maniacally to music that I didn't recognize.
Then I hear "Gila?"
I look up into a grinning but utterly unfamiliar face.
Then I look at his friend and realize THIS IS THE GUY I HAD A CRUSH ON IN EIGTH GRADE.
Eleven years ago.
I haven't seen those guys since high school, nearly seven years ago, and it's reassuring that daddy's money didn't end up spoiling them after all, at least not so much that quick hugs and grins and catching up didn't leave me a little heartened as to the fate of the Losers That I Went To High School With.
Then I hear "Hi, I'm looking for Gila"
And I turn around and it's PETER and BROOKE and TIA!!! and alluvasudden the guy I share an office with at work is in MY DOMAIN.
I hand them lift tickets and tell them to come find me in a half hour when they're warmed up and my replacement shows up.
We met up, Peter complaining that Tia and his girlfriend are BIG WUSSES and are terrified of the tough slopes.
I'm all charged up at this point, right?
I grin and all of a sudden everyone's intimidated with the speed that I race off to grab my skis.
"Where does she get that energy?"
We head up the slope, and I take Peter down the "Kamikaze" and risk his life a few times and fifteen minutes later there's a new respect between us. The girls quit, head over to the bar, and Peter and I go exploring and I work on my technique and realize that I NOW HAVE THE HAMSTRING MUSCLES TO PULL OFF SOME SERIOUS STUNTS.
I scared the hell out of a man that isn't afraid of anything.
I skied twenty runs today.
That's more than I usually get in a season.
And more importantly, right now I can still feel the lift when I shift my weight to stream a perfect parallel, and I remember how it feels to fly.
I can't wait to go skydiving again this summer, but right now...
...right now it's all too clear in my head that my body has far fewer limits than I keep letting myself believe.
My brain's still my best feature (at least I'd like it to be), but sometimes my brain needs a little thrill of adrenaline coursing through it.
And my fingers are termbling with the brain-fed amphetamines as I type.
And I'm stunned, the air that I sucked into my lungs today, panting and heaving with exertion and excitement was cheaper yet more potent than any weed I've ever rolled into a tight little package.
I am alive.