As many of you know, Jackie and I are going to Park City, Utah at the end of this month. My dad is pushing to have some family outings at least once a year and this year its skiing in Park City.

Well, for the past 10 years or so, whenever I would go up to the mountains, I’d go snowboarding. I don’t know if it should really be called snowboarding per se; more like falling-on-my-ass-boarding. Every single time I’ve gone snowboarding for the last 10 years, it didn’t matter if I went the day before or the year before, I just never got any better. I’d strap on my board and make a very awkward trip to the lift, damn near killing myself getting off the lift and then slowly scoot my way down the mountain, usually stopping every 100 feet or so as I slammed ass- or head-first into the snow. I’d repeat that for most of the day.

The real fun came when I had to take off my boots at the end of the day. After using my hands to break each of my many, many falls of the day, they apparently had had enough and began to protest. Most times I would have to resort to using my other foot to try and kick off my boot because my hands were obviously not going to cooperate. Good times, right?

Well, I’m done. No more snowboarding for me. And my hands couldn’t be happier.

I grew up skiing and my body knows what to do when those things are strapped to its feet. A snowboard? Not so much. I started snowboard because it looked like fun and my brother, Branden, gave me his old snowboard as a gift. I knew that Branden absolutely loved (and still does) snowboarding and I wanted to have just as much fun as he was having. And for the first few times I went, I had fun. But after a while I noticed that I was not progressing. Like I said earlier, I could have snowboarded the day before and I’d still feel like it was my first time on the board.

Now that my very brief prologue is complete, on to the actual story, which is not nearly as exciting.

We went to Mount Shasta this weekend to get some skiing in before our big trip. If I’m going to go to a premiere mountain resort, I need to make sure I don’t look like an idiot (yes, yes, insert your jokes here).

Now, the ski conditions were not that great. The mountain is severely in need of some snow (only 17″ at the base). The weather was great if your weren’t skiing (55-60 degrees out and sunny), but not so much otherwise. But that didn’t bother us.

I popped my rented ski’s on and despite the fact that its been more than 10 years since I’ve even touched the things, I was in my element. Skiing, to me, was like riding a bike. Don’t get me wrong, I was definitely a little rusty (10+ years, remember?). But I knew as soon as I started heading down the mountain on that first run that I was on the right track.

Despite the conditions, we had a blast. I got noticeably better with each run and enjoyed every second on the mountain. I think my favorite part of the day was late in the afternoon when we stopped at the little bar at the top of the lift. My dad, Troy, Tim, Randy and Luke and Zachary spent a little time relaxing, enjoying the sun on this absolutely beautiful day. It was a great little bar with a patio that overlooked the entire resort, the peak of Mount Shasta shooting up to our right. You could see Mount Lassen in the distance and the entire valley. We spent a few moment joking, talking about nothing in particular while sipping on a good beer (Lost Coast’s Great White).

It was a great day. It was great to spend a day with my dad and some really great family and friends. I had a lot of fun getting back on ski’s and hitting the slopes. It made me a little more excited for Park City, for sure.