Everyone in Boston laughed, and reminded me that MRG stands for Mud,
Rocks, and Grass this late in the year.  But still, I got to bed early
and hit to road in time to beat the "crowd."

I'm sure mud, rocks, and grass was available somewhere, but I didn't
go looking for it.  Instead, I made a right turn off the top of the
single and found only powder in the woods, and soft, wet bumps on the
trails.  Reload at midstation.  Repeat cycle until lunchtime.  Aaah.

April Fools?  Hardly.

Not even a scratch on the bases.  In fact, I didn't even realize that
I'd forgotten to scrape off the excess wax this morning until a
transition from Paradise fluff to Fox slush sent me over my ski tips.
Three hours of skiing hadn't even worn off the lumps of Swix...


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