Waxing Gibbous Moon - June 4, 2017 by Joseph Brimacombe Via Flickr: Taken from Savannah Skies Observatory using a Skynyx 2-2 high speed camera and 10-cm Takahashi Apochromatic Refractor at F/8.
Capture start time = 19:52:55 / UT+10 Hours
Capture duration = 82.36 Sec
Captured frames = 1000
Capture frame speed = 12 Fps
Zeno Colò in an ad for Holmenkol ski wax. Colò was a champion alpine ski racer from Italy, born in Abetone, Tuscany. He was among the top ski racers of the late 1940s and early 1950s. At the 1950 World Championships in Aspen, Colorado he won the gold medal in both downhill and giant slalom and the silver in slalom. Two years later at the 1952 Olympics in Oslo he won gold in the downhill. He won the Lauberhorn downhill in Wengen in 1948, and took the slalom title there in 1949 and 1950.
Remember back in the day when this was a running blog?
I stayed out way too late last night, but bossman gifted me with a couple of Sundance tickets, and I couldn’t say no. I also stayed out too late on Thursday and Monday. A pattern (involving shitty sleep) is beginning to emerge.
This morning I woke up about three hours before I wanted to. Storm skiing commands it. I texted the Prince of Norway. I finished waxing my skis. I texted him again. And again. And again.
Normally he texts me at around 6:30 asking if I want first chair. It got to be 7:45 and I hadn’t heard from him, and I was actually starting to worry. Turns out he was awake, he blew his alternator, and he had to wait for the auto parts store to open.
By the time I got on the road, it was too late. All of the sleepyheads were out and trying to get up my beloved canyon. I pulled off the highway and canyon traffic was backed up almost to the exit (the canyon is 17 miles of single-lane traffic). That is like a 2+ hour wait at the very least. I tried to stick it out. I wanted to ski so badly, and Jess and E were already up there.
I lasted about 45 minutes before getting plus or minus nowhere – halfway between the off-ramp and the mouth of the canyon. My crankypants and I flipped around and went home.
After rage-cleaning my apartment (and with nothing better to do), I packed a bag, queued Hamilton to flow through my headphones, and set outside for I-had-no-idea-what.
I’m not even sure I would call this running – more like forward-moving knee-highs. The storm I so badly wanted to ski was dropping some wet and heavy snow in the valley, varying from 2-6" deep along my path. Stretches graced by the warmth of the sun turned to icy slush puddles with underlying blankets of mud. To say that this run was an exercise in stabilizers would be an understatement.
At first I thought I’d just do the easy 3-mile neighborhood loop, but I found myself heading south, meandering along the river trail, crossing foot bridges, and prancing through calf deep snow. When I eventually found firm footing, I headed east and set my sights on the Temple. The sun was beginning to sink lower in the sky, so then I figured I should run up to the Capitol to catch the golden and ruby rays fading over the Oquirrhs and the Great Salt Lake.
And then it was dark and I was getting cold, so I donned my headlamp and reflective gear, and shuffled down the icy hill toward home.
8.5 miles later, and I’m considerably happier and significantly more tired.
Sleep comes extra early tonight. Tomorrow is a powder day, and I’m not throwing away my shot (shot).