Ski Magazines in August

When the ski magazines start arriving in mid-August, it’s not only fascinating, it’s a source of frustration. Serious frustration.

I can't stand it.

It's mid-August and the invasion of the ski magazines has already started.

To an honorably addicted skier, this is like dangling a steak in front of a starving person. Or a glass of water just out of a thirsty's man's reach.

Why?

Why do these publications come to my mailbox when the temperature's still in the 80s and 90s?

Why do they assault me with images of pristine, untracked snow when the kids are still frolicking in the swimming pool?

Why do they taunt me with articles about sliding down immaculate slopes when snow is-at minimum-five months away?

To tease me with winter in the midst of summer is cruel. It gets me all revved up for something I can do nothing about. It gets me psyched to ski when golf is what's at hand.

It's frustrating as hell.

The real ski/snowboard season is merely four months long. Five, if you really push it. If the magazines begin arriving in my mailbox at this time of year, that makes the ski/snowboard anticipation season just as long-assuming I haven't been anticipating the return of winter from the moment I stopped skiing in April.

In what art form is the prelude as long as the body of a work? Does the preamble of the constitution run on for as many pages as the actual document? Does the overture to a Broadway musical equal the length of the play's songs themselves?

I don't think so.

This is torture.

Maybe it's punishment for being an addict. "See," my non-skiing spouse might say, "if you weren't so addicted to this sport, seeing these magazines wouldn't bother you. You'd just chalk it up to promotional nonsense."

It is promotional nonsense. The ski makers, snowboard companies, binding manufacturers, boot makers, ski/ride fashion moguls and, of course, the ski resorts all need to press themselves into my brain, to convince me that I must buy new skis, snowboards, boots, outerwear and immediately pick a vacation destination.

But, it does bother me.

It's not winter. It's not even close to winter. Talk to me in November when the outdoor temperatures start to intimate coming snowfall. I'll be happy to listen then.

Oh, hell. I'm happy to listen now. It's such a beautiful tease.