Lonely Ohio Winters

I made it to Brandywine on Saturday and managed to ride for a few hours before I became bored. These pictures are from the parking lot. I have learned the hard way to not put a camera in my pocket while snowboarding.

Just the other day my boyfriend asked me why I don't snowboard with anyone. I used to snowboard with my friend Bryan, but he moved to Colorado so he could ride seven or eight months of the year.

I tried to explain to my boyfriend that snowboarding is about me, the board, and the mountain...or in Ohio's case, the hill. When I attempted to discuss this with him, I meant what I said. Snowboarding is a lot like writing. The act is sacred sometimes, and it's all mine. I don't team write.

But I must admit, after going down Grizzly a dozen times this past Saturday- tumbling, jumping, giggling...I started feeling this pull in my gut.



Loneliness.

I must be cracking up or something. I have always been, "Oh, I love spending time with myself." And now, as I get older, I realize how much companionship means to me. Writer Jen spends enough time alone; snowboarder Jen may need a snowboarding buddy.

Or at least I need some more challenging terrain than Brandywine so I can spend less time being lonely and more time worrying about the artistry of snowboarding.

P.S. Thanks goes to my loyal Jeep. Recently I had been thinking about purchasing a vehicle that would be easier on the gas and such...but I must admit, never once in eight years has the Jeep been stuck. It's small and incredible-perfect for winter snow driving and summer convertible cruising.

I'm heading out

The roads are a mess. I know I am crazy.

Still, what can an Ohio snowboarder do? I normally despise Brandywine because it takes three seconds to get down the hill. I refuse to get step-in bindings so it is rather annoying to unstrap and restrap constantly. But with this powder, I'll deal with it.

Happy snowstorm everyone. I now put my faith in one 2001 Jeep.

Sunday thoughts on teaching...snowboarding

Yesterday I went to Seven Springs (PA) to snowboard. Conditions weren't the greatest: slushy, a tiny bit of mud on some runs, and a million people waiting in line for the lifts; but I am an Ohio girl so I cannot complain about weather.

I had a great time with my friend and her son. They are still in beginner mode which forced me to stop and dissect how it is that I snowboard in order to teach them.

My friend seemed gracious toward my teaching, but I'm not sure I taught her much of anything. When it comes down to it, what is teaching, really?

Sometimes it boils down to something quite simple. I can tell you how I snowboard. I can tell you what other snowboarders would say. And then you have to take that wisdom or stupidity and figure out what works for you. Sometimes it works like that in poetry as well.

I tried to explain to my friend's son that one way I learned to snowboard was to ride with people who were better than me. That forced me to have to keep up and push myself to limits I didn't anticipate were even possible. This is similar to how poets constantly read other poets.

My friend (tailbone on fire, knees black and blue) kept getting angry, slamming down the board and using some four letter words. I got a little Zen on her, tried to elaborate on the spirituality of snowboarding. You must respect the mountain as something much greater than you. And the board, well it must become an extension of your own body.

Really, my friend hasn't yet fallen in love with the art of it yet, but I hope that she will. As for me, even though I am 30 and according to my mother I need to be thinking about mortgages, there is just about nothing in the world that makes me as happy as snowboarding does and I need to do it much more often than I do.

A few inches please!

Look at that gorgeous Barrett Christy Gnu 150 cm snowboard. All her poor owner wants is a few weeks of good riding weather. Of course, the sweet owner of this board has no idea how she will finance a trip to Seven Springs (especially since she is saving up for AWP), but at this point, she may even settle for Brandywine.

I'd rather be sick in Europe

I'm really bad at being sick. It's 9:30 in the morning and I am the sickest I have been in years. My voice is gone and my chest is on fire. The last time I was this sick was right before my friend Bryan and I headed to Austria to snowboard. It must have been about four years ago. The picture is me in Solden, Austria, where my friend Bryan and I rode for four days. Notice the red face, a mix between cold air and strep thoat. But no sickness was going to keep me from those mountains. Notice the fluff of white behind me. That isn't snow; it is a smear of cloud that I had to glide through. I hate the use of this word more than anything...but I was "stoked."