Night skiing? Well, YOLO
They say you’ll do anything for your children. And they’re probably right.
But I guess I always thought that meant things such as give up a kidney, spend every last penny on college, forget what a full night’s sleep is like, etc.
Over spring break, I learned it also means night skiing — when all you really want to do is drink a cold beer while soaking in a hot tub after a full day of schussing through spring slush with hordes of other skiers at Breckenridge.
“YOLO, Mom!” are the words that suckered me into going (and a set of dimples as deep as the Glenwood caverns).
True, “You Only Live Once.” But why did I have to put my feet back in ski boots and carve turns down the dark slopes of Keystone to prove the point?
To my 12-year-old son, the reason was simple: “We have to go — because we can go.” And so we did.
While changing in the parking lot alongside a bunch of other ski bums, all of whom were psyched to just make more turns, it hit me: You do only live once, so why not make the most of it? And so I did.
I’m not going to lie; my feet were not happy to be back in ski boots, and my legs would have rather been soaking in the hot tub. But I was having fun. My son and I were having fun. And then, at 8 o’clock sharp, fireworks went off. Literally. Right above our heads. The whole mountain lit up and we were night skiing under a shower of colored lights.
YOLO. Or more accurately, you only ski at night, under fireworks, once.
So yes, I’ll do anything for my children. And I couldn’t be happier.
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