You ever known that feeling, nearly bursting with joy? Grinning at each other on top of a hard earned peak gets me there. Or shredding deep pow while it is still puking on a deep winters day. I have no idea why, but it makes me insanely happy. You think, it’s because there is stuff like endorphines and adrenaline involved? Whatever reason, skiing simply does that to me. To us. Thank god, my dear husband eventually shares this passion with me and does not mind hours after hours in the ski-cellar. Thanks by the way, honey.
For my taste, there were to little of those joyful moments in our daily grind in Cologne. Sure, we did a lot of traveling, but like every holiday, those end. Always too early. Long drives to and from the Alps and unpredictable snow conditions didn’t help either. And then there were the ever repeating dramatic scenes of the last skiing day: this ist he last chairlift ride, the last turn in wet slush… You know what I mean? We always dreaded the end. Nonetheless it was the time between holidays we wanted to change for good and just live our life.
Being a winters child, Cologne’s not really the place to be then. Winter doesn’t show up there very often. It’s more grey, wet, cold and lasts at least 4 months. That can easily lead you to depression. In the mountains, winter’s quite the opposite: white and sunny. The snow is simply beautiful and the winter landscapes seem magical. We like that skiing clears our minds like nothing else. Oh, and there’s a point in leaving your comfy zone behind. Well, compared to Dirk I don’t always thrive in those moments. Unfortunately my fear of heights gets to me quite regular, mostly when I’m standing on a ridge, completely shocklike frozen and thinking why the hell am I doing this? Which get’s us back to my first sentence: Standing on a peak, grinning like crazy and nearly bursting with joy. See?
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