It's Looking Like Spring.

The snow that I shoveled last week is almost gone, swept away by rain and warm temperatures. That's the reality of an El Nino year in Anchorage. The resorts were able to make a lot of snow last week when temperatures were in the single digits or lower, so hopefully they'll survive this recent turn of events. I certainly hope so, because Mighty Mites is just around the corner and I don't want to shepherd my little flock of 9 year olds down a ribbon of death, dodging teenagers baked on Alaska-legal marijuana, riding snowboards Mom and Dad gave them as an early Christmas present for managing not to be expelled this semester. Yeah, I'm still not 100% fired up about the prospect, but all reports say it's gong to be better than last year. I hope so, because my nerves were about fried.

A collective whine can be heard around town from all of the fat bikers, because the trails are getting absolutely trashed. They'll have plenty of time to ride this winter, and besides this time of year is all about carbo-loading for next race season. At least, that's my excuse.

Actually, I'm trying (and mostly failing) to maintain my current weight. I'd prefer to drop a few between now and New Year's, but just holding steady would be a significant victory. Sprint training has added a small amount to my leg muscles, but I don't think my fat/muscle ratio has altered. The sad truth is that I have to learn to shut my mouth once in a while.

So, as I watch the green grass take over from the receding snow and I try not to think about the giant bags of Goldfish in the cupboard, I dream of next season and how I will absolutely dominate the road division, bringing the attention of ProTour teams and resulting in fat, multi-year contracts. 

These delusions are what keep me going.

At least until spring gets here.