Here I am with Rachel at the Swamp Gas Bridge.

This was a totally fun day! I headed up north to Norsk with Mark A, Steve, and Rachel. In order for us all to squeeze into the Subaru (a.k.a. 1067, since he came after the original Subaru, Hastings), Mark A had to drive and Steve had the front seat (they're both very tall) and Rachel and I snuggled in back. This was very cool. I didn't have to drive (I'm really into the passenger thing right now) and I got to hang with Rachel and her Jackie O. glasses.

Nothing too exciting happened. We skied all day, heading out to this hut in the middle of nowhere for tasty snacks. There was no room to skate, so Steve, Mark, and I double-poled and Rachel, poor Rachel, ate it on pretty much every downhill (she's had knee surgery and can't snowplow). We'll have to go somewhere flat next time.

Oh wait. Something sort of interesting did happen. We ran in to a guy whose name Mark couldn't remember, who raced collegiate before I did. We'd never met, but he said he knew me though the Wheelworks Web site. =) Whoa.

By the time Mark and I made it back for our class, with 2 minutes to spare, I was ready for a nap. I'd already bonked about 5 times at that point. Still, I made it through the class and we hustled out to the car. (I was very distracted by our instructor's winter hat--he appeared to be wearing part of a fleece throw we had at the SpinsterHaus on his head. It was red with little blue pseudo-Native American animals on it.) My suggestion to go to McDonald's was brutally rebuffed.

We had a lengthy discussion about swimming with Rachel--she was shocked to be in a car with three cyclists who were intersted in her sport. =)

The next day, Mark told me he felt like he'd been "massaged" about 20 times with a snowplow. Yar.