There may still be days on skis to be had, but I’m ready to declare the the end of the 2015-2016 skiing season.
One year ago, I could hardly walk after one day in ski boots. I still have to take multiple painkillers to endure, and from time to time the pain has still been so intense that I lost control over my skis, but this year I have been able to ride all through the season.
Less than a year ago, the bare thought of going into avalanche terrain sent shivers down my spine. I am still fighting the ghosts in my shell, and I still have a universe to learn, but as the season is coming to an end I feel excitement rather than terror for the next one.
Neither of those two things would have happened if I hadn’t moved up to Tromsø. This little arctic town has supplied me both with vast areas of avalanche terrain, in which I have been able to push both my body and head forward. It has also given me the privilege to get to learn and tour with a large number of fantastic people. I’d like to give myself some credit for the progress that I have made mentally, but I know that I wouldn’t have been able to do it without the critical mass of friends who’ve endured my endless rants and questions. These people has filled my head with invaluable knowledge and helped me install stoke where there was once bottomless fear. Even though I’m not religious, I know that I am blessed.
One person has practiced endurance more than others. Next season is our season. We will both be ready when it comes.