Intervention?
I'm in this “beer night” ski league and last Monday was our first race of the season. Our Team drew a high number and ended up near the back of the start. I was going up on the chair when Team One went and got to observe their form. One is a former Olympian, then her brother who's a lot faster, one who was on the Austrian ski team, then the head coach for the resort team. First race, first runs, smooth-fast snow, needless to say they were ripping the course.
By the time it’s our turn the course is well rutted. Nothing real bad but not smooth either. It was about 20 degrees and the snow was real hard, so the ruts weren't deep but they were very angular.
I always make a little sign of the cross before each run, and this time was no exception. I pray for my safety, not speed, as I figure the latter isn't and shouldn't be important to God. Just give me safety Lord, and leave the rest up to me.
I'm in the gate crouched down with my shins on the timer bar, get the go and launch up and out, then skate and pole to the first gate. I carved some great turns tucking most of them real low, in my zone riding easily over the ruts and was early for every turn.
About 5th from the end I can't see the second gate in front of me. I'm tight on the front gate and riding my outside ski hard and ready for the transition. Where the hell is the next gate? Hello, are you up there? I come out of my tuck and finally see it half-bent over and carve around it wide and late. But I didn't jam the turn or lose speed, and I'm really flying.
Another right-left then the final gate to go, I come out of the second and bounce a rut or something because now I'm "doing a Bode" with my inside ski in the air catching the wind. I'm looking at the near straight line between me, the last gate and the finish line with my new outside ski in the air carrying my foot to the outside. The "oh-shit-on-my-ass" instinct somehow gives way to "bring-your-leg-down" which I do, and I smack the last gate and reach for my tips as I cross the line.
Normally there's a small group of racers who just finished about thirty yards down the hill looking for their teammates progress and its an easy stop to join them. I'm moving so fast though so end up another thirty yards past them, looking at the ground in front of me and trying to catch my breathe. I then stand up straight and look up at the night sky just in time to see a medium sized white bird flying away from me, right over the finish shack about 80 yards away. You never see a bird that big in the mountains during the winter, especially this cold, all the naked tree branches covered perfectly with white. The only birds I see at this elevation and during the cold weather are little smoke-blue colored that ground nest in the rhododendrons, and then only around during the day.
I wasn’t surprised, and scored gold, four points, for our team.
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Originally Posted by glockmail
and of all the things he could do, like i duuno, stop an earthquake happening that leads to countless deaths and misery...but why would he bother doing that when he could turn glock into a speed daemon /sark.
