Last Sunday I went skiing out, that dark and snowy day
Up on that ridge I skied up as I went along my way
When on that last lap, my technique, it had a mighty flaw
So knees and elbows, bad technique was all the coaches saw

The vans a-left the parking lot a-with a mighty squeal
We came back to the USA in our automobile
In Montana, a blizzard, it was falling from the sky
That ghost truck, it a passed us hard, visibility awry

We just saw snoooooow
To our dismaaaaaay
Ghost truckers are in drive

Sunday's race was a pursuit start, based on our combined time from the sprint and 10km freestyle the two days before.  I was skiing really well, and gaining a lot of spots.  It was one of those days when you kind of had to choose between good glide and good kick.  I went with kick.  So some people were gaining on me on downhills, but on the uphills I made up for it.  I skied better and better, having an excellent second lap.  I got a split that I was leading on the day.  Then my technique fell apart.  I ended up with the 7th fastest time of the day, but the first 10km gives me a lot of confidence.

The race officials didn't post results, so we all had to stay for the awards to see who had skied fast.  As soon as the awards were over, vans were scrambling out of the parking lot to get home.  After a brief stop at the border so the border guard could search my bag to see that we were indeed not smuggling anything in other than cereal and cookies (which I declared), we were on our way.  The border guard seemed somewhat shocked that three people could use that many skis and that much wax.  Oh well.

We stopped for a fast food snack at Deer Lodge.  I was just starting to get hungry, so I ordered two whole chickens, but replaced the Coke with a milkshake.  Leif forewent the dry white toast and settled for water.  As we pulled back out onto the interstate, we heard a whoosh as we were passed by the ghost truck.

For those of you who don't know about the ghost truck of Homestake Pass, legend has it that a ghost truck passes ill-fated travelers going over the pass during snow storms and travels just ahead of them, at the same speed, so as to completely white out the luckless driver's vision, with the hope of gaining new companions on it's never-ending trip over the pass during snow storms.  We had been chosen, and struggled to find a distance behind the truck that allowed us any visibility.  We couldn't see the truck on account of it being a ghost truck.  Nay-sayers would say that the truck just needed all the tail lights replaced, but we're not on a horse farm.

We finally made it into Bozeman, but the storm and the ghost truck delayed us significantly.  By the time we made it in, it was too late for a new blog post.  And besides, I had to pack for a flight the next morning.  I woke up the next morning and Peter gave me a ride to the airport.  All my layovers were just short enough that I couldn't write a blog post en route, and I eventually made it to my parents' place for the holidays.  But it was too late and I was too tired to blog.

Anyways, this morning I did some light running.  The road to the ski trails is closed on account of a pretty severe winter storm.  I've heard rumors that there are over 2 feet of new snow at the ski trails, but since the roads are closed up there, I'm not sure where those figures are coming from.

My last blog title was based on You're Gonna Go Far Kid, by the Offspring.