Bowdoin Nordic: Part II: The Best Weekend EVER!!!

Here's Part 2 of Sanville's post from last week:

I know that a lot of you are doing some pretty cool things this summer. Maren is in Australia, Spencer is in New Zealand, Wilson is doing all sorts of kayaking, climbing, and high altitude snow skiing, and Grace is in Philadelphia (Ed. note: Which one of these things is not like the others?). In the meantime, Scott and I are still at Bowdoin, and though fun, it is really remarkable only in that it’s not home, thank God (sorry Mom and Dad, but I know for a fact that you’re thankful too). My existence here at Bowdoin is justified and paid for by my forty hours of pretty much sitting and nothing else in a windowless office on the second floor of Coles tower. Though I am ridiculously overpaid for what I do, the job’s sole requirement really is just to sit in that office. Consequently, I don’t really have a chance to do too many awesome things. Well, last weekend that all changed. Last weekend was The Best Weekend EVER!!!

Those of you who regularly follow the blog already know how Scott and I did a sick workout on Saturday, but that’s not actually the beginning. This story starts in Portland, at the Portland Pie Company. Scott, myself, and a few of our friends decided to hoof it down to Portland for some pizza, the Cabin and the Brunswick House of Pizza being notably lacking in menu items that actually taste good. Sitting there as our gum-snapping, bad hair dye job waitress laid two delicious pizza pies in front of us, I had sudden revelation, and premonition, or perhaps epiphany, that this was going to be the best weekend ever.

Taking one bite of that delicious pizza (seriously, if you’re ever in Portland, GO!), my prophecies were fulfilled - it was so good. About halfway through the meal, we started talking and decided to go see Inception, which had just come out. Inception turned out to be just as good as the pizza, though in a slightly different manner. My mind totally warped from sheer deliciousness and dream-heist-movie awesomeness, I went to sleep.

The next morning I woke up early, packed the car, woke Slongwell, and we headed out to what I already talked about in Part I (I didn’t realize that you lived in the Sugarloaf area, Emma, I will totally call you next time I’m out there). What I didn’t tell you, was that afterward we went back to the river and found a series of small waterfalls that, when you sat beneath them, gave nature-based back massages. The cool water calmed my aching muscles and the rocks still retained their heat from earlier that day, acting like warm, though not in the least fuzzy, towels. On the way home we stopped at McDonald’s for milkshakes and I indulged in a medium fries - best recovery food ever.

Early that week I had been invited to go to Canobie Lake Park with some friends I’ve met recently here over the summer. It’s an amusement park, and I had fun, but I think if I died without ever going to another one, I would die contented. On the way back they dropped me off in Cape Elizabeth, where I was going to spend a night at the Hatton’s and hang out with Erin during her precious time away from the candy concentration camp where she is working this summer.

You see, this summer Erin is working at a summer camp for the children of the rich and famous. She only has a little time off, and the weekend previously she stopped by Bowdoin on her way home on one of her short little stints away from the camp (she can tell you all about the horrors of camp some other time - this is a happy blog post). We had talked earlier in the school year about me visiting her in Cape, but it never worked out until this weekend. So, after laying plans a week ago, she picked up Scott on her way home again and I was dropped. I was fried from Canobie and Erin from camp, so we talked just a little while, had some delicious food, and went to bed.

We woke up late the next day (Monday by this point, Scott and I both took the day off), and cranked out an absolutely amazing two-hour run. Cape Elizabeth, just outside of Portland, is actually one of the most beautiful parts of Maine I’ve ever seen. We ran down by the ocean, along a beach for a while, and then up to the most-photographed lighthouse in the world.

Portland Head Lighthouse

Then we came back. I crashed again, this time on the couch, for three or four hours, until we had a delicious dinner of chili and caperese salads cooked by Mr. Hatton (thank you so much for having us, Mr. and Mrs. Hatton - we really appreciated your hospitality and food, and had a ton of fun).

And that’s really about it. That epic? I don’t know. No, actually, I do, and here’s why: We did do some pretty cool things this weekend, had some sick work outs, communed with nature, etc., but the truly epic part was just spending time with fellow ski team friends. College presents a number of really unique opportunities while you’re there, but skiing is a doubtlessly individual experience within that range of once in a life time possibilities provided in college. Traveling all over the Northeast (to New Hampshire and back) with a group of people who before you even realize it you’ve become incredibly close and attached to, eating cooking, napping, skiing, training with them, is so incredibly, epically fun. I believe it to be a trait absolutely individual to the Nordic Ski Team because of its size, closeness, and own strange flavors of personality. It’s what I once described to a girl I was hitting on (failure, again) as living the Nordic-Ski-Rock-Star-Life-Style. Though I’m jealous beyond what words appropriate for a public blog post can possibly describe of Spencer’s last e-mail from New Zealand, for me, skiing is really about the people. A weeny cop-out with an emotional appeal shove into it in the face of Spencer’s overwhelming snow covered New Zealand awesomeness? Perhaps, but I don’t care. So, who’s up for the Presidentials?