Last Friday's big snowstorm caught up to me before I could get out of Dodge, so decided to skip my original Sugarloaf weekend ski plan, and avoid the messy, white-knuckle drive to get there. Instead, I frustratingly waited out the storm at home all through Saturday.

Finally, on Sunday a group of us got an early start and blasted up to Sunday River to find out what Mother Nature had left on the slopes.

The answer: Tons and tons of snow!

Now, on a normal day I would have launched into it with a big "yee-hah." But on this day, a very difficult personal matter weighed heavily on my mind, and that, combined with the heavy, wet, chopped-up snow made it difficult for me to get into anything resembling a decent rhythm. In other words, I uncharacteristically flailed about. Horribly.

I had hoped that a few runs would push me into my usual "fun mode" and help to dispel the devils that were racing through my head, but I couldn't make it happen. I quit the slopes a little after noon, and holed up in the lodge to wait for my ski pals, who were all having a considerably better day.

Now, I know that there are bound to be a few bumps on this emotional road, but this was a truly joyless day, and I hope to goodness that they are few.

Today is a new day, thankfully, but damn, I sure could use a big hug...