As a lad, I lamented the proximity of my birthday to Christmas. I felt that the energy for celebration was thin by the time my annual marker came around. But as a post middle-age skier, I find that the timing is perfect, allowing me to create a nice distraction from the march towards old guy.
Now the convenient placement of my birthday, a week after New Years, is hard to deny. By then my girls have had their fill of skiing for a while. It’s a weekend to roam New York, looking for the snow, terrain and vibe that keeps me young.
Plattekill has become an integral part of my strategy for reality denial and/or postponement. Often this is my first trip to Roxbury and I push everyone I know to come out to ski.
