Laying down on a couch after a day of skiing. Cheeks red from the wind. Legs sore from the carving. And the telltale sign of a good day, a euphoric feeling of content.
It starts when restrictive boots come off and feet slide into soft wool clogs. It extends from your cold lips regaining their normal red hue. From your fingers temperature rising. Then it crescendos in your head, a sense of pure and utter elation. Calm. Then sleep.
More often then not I probably have a big stupid squinty eyed grin on my face.
I'm ok with that.
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