Walking over large gravel mixed into snow is not what thick plastic boots were made for. Not even remotely. Stairs are also a pain in the ass, but I'd like to think I'm kind of an expert at the necessary heel-toe rocking motion required to not go sliding face-first down those treacherous concrete steps. At least it hasn't happened yet, for which I'm grateful. Parking lot, stairs, more stairs, gravel, it was a longer walk than I wanted it to be and I'd parked much closer than usual. We'd gotten there around 30 minutes early, but later than I'd wanted to, and the line was already fairly long. But I'd known that my desire for first was too lofty a goal, and if you're not first it really doesn't matter as long as you're not last.
We got to the end of the line and then *slap* *slap* *chkkk* *chkkk* *click* *click*. Those plastic boots are in plastic bindings, where they belong. Those bindings are on skis, which are back on snow for the first time in 6 months. Welcome to ski season.
Welcome home.
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