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Meesh, Aspen,CO Age:28

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wSaturday, May 01, 2004


Doing bumps. And I don't mean moguls.

Spring in Aspen means a mass exodus the day after the mountain closes. To Las Vegas, Moab, Mexico and points south, where we all strive to spend the hard-earned tips and bonuses the winter season has bestowed on us, and sleep with our co-workers and pretend it never happened when we get home (Did I? I don't think so.)

After returning from a week of dereliction, drinking, sun, and all that other stuff that "happens in Vegas and stays in Vegas", we return burnt, burnt-out, broke, and positively rotting from the inside out.

At this point, mid-March's tease of 70 degree perfection has turned into the spring Rocky Mountains weather pattern of sun, wind, rain, sleet, snow, and then repeat, EVERY hour. So, fat, pale, and atrophying, unable to ski, watching brown spots forming on the mountain, we will ourselves to run, hike, and bike, if only the weather would cooperate. It becomes so depressing, no one in town, no reason to go out to the clubs, no money, can't be outdoor mountain freaks, just sitting inside watching it rain, and saying, "It's definitely snowing on top, I wonder how many inches? We should hike up there."

Fed up with the state of our health and visions of our naked whiteness, this 3-part regimen is on the to do list of every proactive Aspenite.

Number #1 - hit the gym. From 6-8 pm, nearly every machine is occupied at the Aspen Athletic Club, the cardio queens all in a row on the stairmaster, watching MTV. The buff, stinky, sweaty guys (um, hello, deodorant?) always take the 3 elliptical machines in the back, and I am always stuck on the machines directly in front of the mirror, looking at the TV with no sound, next to the guy hoarding the remote on CNN.

Every person in the room has a view of my huge ass in the mirror, which the cardio queens glance at while looking at themselves sideways in their skimpy tops and low-rise pants, as if their butts are shrinking by their manic stair marathon. When they are done flipping their magazines and watching the Osbournes and the Real World, they have the nerve to weigh themselves to see whether they are 98 pounds or down to 97.

While most are getting in shape for their 30-mile bike ride over Independence Pass, their hike to Crested Butte, or some marathon, uphill, or triathalon, I am simply trying to fit into last years bikini, working off the pounds I gained from this winter's liquid diet.

You know how the cardio machines ask you to enter your age and weight so it can calculate your target heart rate? Well most guys here take off 20 or 30 years so they can actually get a workout.

Fridays are guest day, pretty much a 2-for-1 happy hour without the alcohol. The closest thing to socializing in the off-season. I try to avoid friday nights because everyone is in the hot tub and I am not quite ready for the big unveiling.

I avoid the weight room, too much testosterone, attempt to scale the climbing wall, then shoot hoops. Until I can hit H-O-R-S-E, which can take half an hour, or at least until it's time for the hottest reservation in town.

Number #2 - tanning. The two tanning beds in town (at the Club) are booked up to a week in advance for the prime slots. Even though the bulbs kinda suck, that's probably a good thing. A good base coat is key to proper epidermis color management. It is so good to see so many of the guys hitting the beds. They must have gotten the memo. The better to show off their 6-packs.

Those who don't fake bake, fake spray. You can tell the ones who just had a fresh coat applied, looking like the spent 2 weeks in the Bahamas. The "healthy ones". The super naturally pale ones.

I rotate. Bake, Spray (Clarins is the best), and lay out on my deck when the sun decides to come out. I like to be waaay ahead of the game on this one. Snow or not, I am in minis and sandals. My feet need to breathe, my legs need to be seen. I find that it's motivating for everyone else. Hahhah.

Number #3 - Cleansing. Everyone has some tried and true method for a spring cleanse.

There's the popular No Sugar cleanse. Which means no alcohol.

The herbal cleanse is also quite trendy. Some nasty tasting elixir meant to degunk the insides.

Cleansing diets: the cabbage soup, the all fruit, the all vegetable, or some combination of the three. Which means some nas-ty gas.

Or just plain old fasting. Only water for a whole week and/or some herbal tea crap the apothecary whipped up for their specific ailments.

Not to mention the people who have to describe to you, IN DEPTH, the colonic they had, and how it made them feel kind of high and like 3 WHOLE pounds lighter. "OMG, you should see the stuff that comes out!!" I can picture it. Really, thanks.

So that means pretty much everyone is sober, cranky, starving, gassy. On top of being fat, pale, poor, and bored out of our minds.

If only we can get through the next few weeks, we will emerge, like the tulips starting to blossom, surviving the random spring snows (Boy, that's cheesy, but really, it's like fucking Amsterdam with all the bulbs everywhere), and ready to push our bodies to the limits this summer.

Cleansed, tanned, toned, and ready to build up the coffers to make it through the fall off-season (a little more tolerable, because at least we'll get to ski and ride at the end of it.)

But most of all to disconnect from all intellect, and get really retarded.

Lose control, of body and soul.
Don't move too fast, people, just take it slow.
Don't get ahead, just jump into it.
Ya'll here a body, two pieces to it.
Get stutted, get stupid.
You'll want me body people will walk you through it.
Step by step, like you're into new kid.
Inch by inch with the new solution.
Trench men hits, with no delusion.
The feeling's irresistible and that's how we movin'.


- B.E.P.

posted by meesh at 9:43 PM