Sweaty and sentimental.

A chilly winter outdoor run leaves me with sweaty cold fleece that reminds me of my youth of day after day, winter after winter, first skiing, then snowboarding.

I miss that.  I miss scoping out the reduced lift ticket days and skiing with my dad.  I miss the excitement of the ski swap, and the first time I got a season pass -- and so did my best friend.  I miss the hours and hours spent riding chair lifts, trying to chose the shortest lift line, trying to catch up with friends, meeting kids who didn't go to your school.  I miss the excitement of getting out of school and plotting whose mom would drive out to Chestnut, the car slowly making its way up the last hill that stood between us and the resort, and late night pick ups, not coming in till ten minutes AFTER you were told to be ready for pick up, and hoping as you came up the lift and you could see the ski patrol standing there that they would say "last run" and not "goodnight", and then riding alone in the car with dad sometimes stopping to pick up a gallon of milk and getting a treat, too, and coming home to a house where everything was winding down and there were leftovers in the fridge.