Conquering the Rockies: An Epic Ski Weekend of Powder, Pizza, and Marathon Milestones

Another incredible ski weekend has drawn to a close, leaving me wonderfully exhausted and eagerly anticipating the thirteen more adventures before the lifts stop spinning for the season. Shhh… don’t tell Mr. B, but can I admit I’m a little tired? It’s a good kind of tired, the kind that comes from pushing limits and embracing every moment.

For those eager to catch up on the latest mountain escapades, here’s a detailed recap of a weekend that proved to be a perfect blend of exhilarating powder, comforting indulgence, and a challenging step forward in my marathon training journey.

Friday: The Mountain Call and a Culinary Kick-Off

Our weekend began, as many of our mountain escapes do, with a late-night drive into the majestic Rockies. The air hummed with anticipation, and our spirits were high, especially with a supreme pizza from the legendary Wazee Supper Club in hand. This isn’t just any pizza; it’s a Denver institution, the perfect fuel for a mountain bound evening. Poor Mr. B had to burn the midnight oil at work until 9 PM, but that gave me ample time to catch up on my favorite cooking shows – a guilty pleasure, perhaps, but certainly more wholesome than soap operas! Or are they? Either way, it felt like the ideal prelude to a weekend of high-energy activities.

As we wound our way through the dark mountain passes, the city lights fading behind us, a sense of tranquility settled in. The anticipation of fresh snow and crisp mountain air filled the car, making the late drive feel less like a chore and more like the start of a much-needed reset. The aroma of the pizza lingered, promising a delicious reward once we reached our cozy mountain retreat. These quiet journeys are often some of the most cherished moments, offering a chance to decompress and mentally prepare for the adventures ahead.

Saturday: Breckenridge Redemption in Waist-Deep Powder

Rise and shine! The morning brought with it an electrifying energy, a promise of a true “powder day.” Mr. B and I wasted no time heading to Breckenridge, where we were set to meet up with some of his extended family friends. Historically, the mention of “Breck” and “skiing” in the same sentence has been known to elicit a rather grumpy, almost “pissy” reaction from me. It’s a long, storied saga, but suffice it to say, Breckenridge and I haven’t always seen eye-to-eye on mountain design. However, this particular Saturday was destined to rewrite history and change my perspective entirely.

From the moment we hit the slopes, it was clear this wasn’t just any ski day; it was epic in every sense of the word. We found ourselves carving through powder that was genuinely waist-deep, a surreal experience that transformed my long-held grievances into pure, unadulterated joy. Every turn was an explosion of snow, a weightless dance down the mountain. The soft, forgiving nature of the deep powder made even the most challenging runs feel like floating. The camaraderie with friends, sharing whoops of delight as we navigated through the pristine conditions, only amplified the magic. Darn you, Breck! You truly outdid yourself this time, making me eat my words and embrace the unexpected.

We concluded our extraordinary Saturday evening with yet another pizza in bed! AGAIN! After the sheer exhilaration and physical exertion of skiing in such incredible powder, the idea of venturing out for dinner felt almost sacrilegious. There’s something profoundly comforting about unwinding with a hot slice after a day on the slopes. I’m genuinely surprised I haven’t yet morphed into Pizza The Hutt from the classic film Spaceballs. Eating pizza twice within 24 hours might raise an eyebrow for some, but after a day like that, it felt like a well-deserved, carb-loaded reward for our adventurous souls.

Sunday: The Post-Powder Push – Fuel, Traffic, and a Grueling Run

Breakfast Boost and the Battle Against Traffic

Can you spell R-E-P-E-A-T? Sunday began with the sweet luxury of sleeping in, followed by a pilgrimage to our beloved Bob’s Place for round two of their famous Mexican omelet. It was just as delicious as the first time, a perfect blend of spicy, savory, and satisfying, though I must admit, the slightly less generous dollop of avocado was a minor bummer. Still, it was the ideal hearty meal to fuel us for the journey ahead and the significant challenge awaiting my legs.

Mindful of last weekend’s harrowing six-hour crawl home, we made a strategic decision to hit the road early, hoping to outsmart the notorious I-70 traffic. And truly, I kid you not, by 2:00 PM, cars were already starting to back up significantly at the Eisenhower Tunnel. Have I ever mentioned my intense dislike for I-70 on a Sunday? It consistently transforms into one colossal cattle call, a frustrating, stop-and-go procession that tests the patience of even the most zen-like traveler. We managed to escape much of the worst congestion thanks to our early start, but witnessing the nascent chaos reminded us why such vigilance is necessary for Colorado ski-goers.

The Marathoner’s Dilemma: Ski Hard, Run Harder

We arrived home around 4 PM, making the drive a much more palatable 2.5 hours. However, the day’s physical challenges were far from over. My marathon training schedule dictated a grueling 12-mile run, a prospect that felt daunting after a day of deep powder skiing. Did I mention I’m attempting to run a marathon? “Trying” is definitely the keyword here, emphasizing the immense effort and dedication required. You ask which marathon? Yes, it’s the very same one my friend Miz Gibson is diligently training for: The Big D. I’m still working tirelessly on getting my hip fully in order, navigating the delicate balance of pushing my limits while prioritizing recovery. So far, despite the occasional ache, progress is steady and encouraging.

After a much-needed, giant pep-talk from Mr. B, who assured me I would feel immeasurably better once the run was accomplished, I reluctantly stomped out the door and began my 12-mile trek. The initial miles started off deceptively well, a gentle rhythm establishing itself. However, miles 4 through 7 proved to be absolutely atrocious. My legs felt like lead, and my knees screamed in protest with every single stride. The fatigue from skiing in deep powder the day before was clearly catching up, making each step an agonizing effort. Had Mr. B not joined me for the last five miles, offering encouragement and a much-needed distraction, I honestly believe I might have simply collapsed on the side of the road. It was a brutal, humbling experience, but one that ultimately strengthened my resolve. Note to self, a lesson learned the hard way: perhaps it’s not the wisest decision to ski waist-deep powder and then attempt a 12-mile run the very next day.

Monday Morning Reflections: Rest, Rejuvenation, and the Relentless March of Time

Now, it’s Monday. The weekend’s adventures are behind me, and I’m in full recovery mode, surrounded by a mountain of laundry that seems to reach my ears. Despite the lingering soreness and the immediate tasks, there’s a profound satisfaction that comes from pushing through challenges, both on the slopes and on the pavement. Can you believe that next week February begins? It feels like just yesterday we were ringing in the New Year. Time truly does fly when you’re having fun – and when you’re pushing your physical limits in pursuit of both winter joy and marathon goals. Each weekend brings new lessons, new memories, and a renewed appreciation for the incredible experiences found in the heart of the Rockies.