Diary of a Tournament: Day 7: It All Comes Down to This.

5am at the airport. Ouch.

This post was supposed to go out Sunday night but due to the fact that I was in a plane I couldn't send it out. Then, the beginning of this week was hectic, catching up on everything I've missed and suddenly cannonballing straight back into real life. Anyways, here it is now. Last day of the tournament.


Up at 6am. Walk up to the window and look out over the ocean. The lightly colored horizon, faded by the fog and distance, greets me. The sun has yet to come up.

It's on. We're gonna do this.

We rally together into the kitchen twenty minutes later to have breakfast and go over some last minute details of the day. We're all feeling good about today. It's all coming together, the pieces that we've prepared over the past week finally falling into place. We clean up, grab our stuff, and roll out. It's the back of the jeep for me again. I won't have much time to prepare to ski when we get to the site so I start preparing on the way there. Warming up my muscles and my mind, I go over my slalom passes in my mind again. And again. Rinse and repeat.

I jump out of the jeep as we arrive, grab my equipment, and jog down to the starting dock. I'm second on the water. There's no need to rush but there cannot be a trace of sleep left in my body, I've got to squeeze it all out. A splash of lake water to the face and I'm feeling more awake. Feeling jittery and wrought with anticipation. Fifteen minutes later and I'm up. I jump in the lake. And ski.

Showing off the stylish new truck driver hats. 

Two and a half passes later. Less than seven minutes. And I'm finished. A score of three and a half buoys at 32' off and I'm satisfied. And done. Completely done with slalom. One more event left. I watch the rest of my division finish up as Santiago comes spectacularly close to clinching the Latinamerican record and then head over to my favorite spot by the house to work on pre-calculus and chemistry. Just one more change of gears that has to be kept greased and running.

Lunch comes and goes and we move on to the jump event. I chat with some people back home while multitasking with my chemistry calculations. I check the time and head over to the starting dock to start preparing for jump. Three more jumps left. It feels odd to think that in half an hour I'll have finished jumping, finished skiing, finished competing. It'll all be over. Everything. And in less that twenty four hours we've got to fly back to North America, back home.

It's nearly my turn and I'm getting ready to put my jump skis on when Robert Pigozzi, the skier before me, crashes out the back. Hard. As in, he breaks a ski. And he hadn't even taken and landed a jump yet. The rescue boat finally springs into action and slowly brings him back to the dock. He's not looking too good but, other than being a bit winded and sore, he's good. The on-site ambulance comes by to pick him up and check him for any serious injuries and before I know it he's gone and I'm back to putting on my skis. Except it's different this time. There's a tangible pall that has settled over the people down here at the dock and I feel the heaviness of it. But I can't think about it. To think about his crash while jumping is to invite that same fate onto me and right now, I can't risk that. My first jump is later than I anticipated and my weight shifts to the back of the skis a bit, effectively shortening the jump by several dozen feet. Although I want to keep my timing the same for the next jump I end up overcorrecting and going earlier, much too early. I almost don't make it onto the ramp. I know that if I want a chance at second place I'm going to have to bring it down and cut. Turn 'n' burn. No more excuses, no more distractions. Last jump and it's farther than the rest. Not quite one of my best jumps but much better than the last two. I'm frustrated because I know I could've gone farther. But don't we all?

I'm done skiing. That's it, that's all. I hang my stuff up to dry and change into my team clothes for the awards. It's truly great to see everyone go up and receive what they worked so hard to earn. And, for those divisions that I missed, it's an opportunity to catch up and see who won and who didn't. It's an awe-inspiring feeling to see all these athletes from all over Latinamerica who come up and win medals and titles,  and to know that this is what they love, what they push for. Their passion.

Santiago wins slalom by a fairly large margin, nearly setting a new record along the way.

Unfortunately, Mariak fell early on the final round but still managed to come in third. She also set a new personal best and Latinamerican record in the preliminary round!

Javier Julio takes second in the slalom event. He also skied spectacularly in the preliminaries but fell early in finals. 

The same Javier Julio, booting out a beautiful jump in the high 180s. 

5:00pm The awards finish and it's getting late quickly, far too quickly. We race back to pack up my equipment, say our goodbyes to as many people as possible with the short notice, and load up our stuff in the van that'll be taking us back to Lima and back to the airport. We jump in and speed off, leaving behind the green site where I skied my first international tournament. Fifteen minutes later and I'm knocked out, in preparation for the little sleep I'll get on the plane tonight.

I say goodbye to the sun, the Peruvian coast, and the Pacific ocean. I fully expect to be back one day.

We get to the airport two hours later and we're just on time. We're here and we can now relax. We check in our baggage and head towards our gate. Crepes and fruit smoothies at a great place in the airport, called Express. Trudge through security, emigration, and customs. Finally get to the terminal, then the gate, and prepare for boarding. It's feeling more like a roller coast at this point. It's 10pm and we're boarding American Airlines flight 917 to Miami. We leave on time, wheels up and headed out. We'll be home by 5am so now's the time to start sleeping.

This week has officially kicked my ass. Monday
morning at 5am and just off the plane. I can't
wait to officially catch up on my sleep.

...only to get up and race to school. By 7:19am I'm in school and in my classroom. Just where this whole trip started. It again feels surreal to be in school after everything that just happened over the past week but I'm not dreaming. It's time to shift from the dream I was living back to reality. This week's been an intense one but I'd do it again in a heartbeat. No question about it. And so it goes. Thanks so much for following along.

Diary of a Tournament... Day 6: We're Getting to the Real Shiznit

Yours truly, this time NOT falling on the hand pass.

Today is where it gets serious. Down to the nitty gritty. No messing around now. It's down to what we've got for today and tomorrow. Our morning starts off fairly early as some of our crew will be skiing right after the start of the tournament at 8.

Mariak, sticking the landing and looking good while she
does it.

Mariak is the first one off the dock. I don't envy her the position; she'll be jumping. Did I mention the time? The sun has just barely peeked out from behind the mountain range on the horizon, it's rough but it doesn't seem to faze her. She's looking confident on the starting dock, especial for not having jumped in many years. She gets ready and jumps in. If she's not quite awake yet she will be as soon as she hits the ramp, it's quite the wake up call. Fortunately, she gets two extra jumps at the beginning as the judges found that the cameras had fogged up and they couldn't get a reading on her distance. There's quite a break before she goes back out but she doesn't disappoint.

I head over to the house on the lake to connect to the internet and get some work done. Finals don't officially start until noon today as they're running behind so it'll be a long time before I ski. Time to get ahead on some homework. I have a quick break about halfway through as Henrik Larsen stops by to say hi. He's just visiting for the day but it's good to see a familiar face from back home and to know that they'll be supporting me throughout the day. He walks off and I bury myself back into the work.

Early morning birds right on the starting dock. They've
invaded the bamboo infrastructure and claimed it as
their own.

Javier Julio turning hard at one ball at 41' off.

Just out of the water and feeling good about his new personal best!

At about noon I take a break to see what's going on with the events. Tricks is starting off on the other lake and I start carting over my gear to the dock. I grab something quick to eat, keeping it light but I need the energy. I make sure I'm stretched and warmed up and I run over to the main lake to watch Santiago slalom in the Open men's prelims. He puts out an awesome performance (he finished slaloming and went right over to the trick dock to ski soon after me) and I run back to the dock to finish preparing. It's almost time to start. Tricks is the only event which I'm missing for my overall score. The overall score is taken from the top performance in each of the events, whether those scores were in the semi-finals or finals. My slalom and jump scores were both satisfactory for overall but my trick score needs considerable improvement. This puts extra pressure to stand up my passes but I know that the only way I'll get through them the quickest will be to stay calm and relaxed. Stay calm and carry on.

The tournament officials are serious about
keeping their drinks... wet. That's an inside-out
tire that they're in.

I'm up. I jump in the water and take off. Toes is my first pass and I nail it. Had a couple wobbles but I managed not to panic and I kept it steady. Hand is next and I swallow the anticipation rising up in my throat and in my head. We stop to switch skis and I'm back in the water in no time. I start my pass with the same flip from prelims and I cut hard for the second one. I manage to keep my arms relaxed this time, not frantically pulling on the rope. I land without too much slack and I keep it under control. The next flip is not too unstable and after that it's effortless. I finish, this time with my ski still underneath me, the handle still in my hand and a grin on my face. I'm done tricking. It seems surreal as I put my ski away but I realize that that was all. Not more than five minutes later and I'm done. Forty seconds of tricking. Maybe a minute on the water. People back home maybe were reading a book, tanning by the pool, washing a car but in most cases not much changed. Nothing much changes in five minutes but for me those five minutes were the culmination of my effort over the past few weeks. And as quickly as it took someone to read through two pages of their book, for me, it's over.

Juan Carlos looks very menacing after his impressive win. 

I scarf down some lunch and grab my camera, getting ready to watch Santi and Mariak go out and trick. The Rasta does spectacularly, standing up on both his passes. I'm ready by the shoreline as Mariak comes down the lake, starting her passes. She doesn't do nearly as well as she did in the prelims and goes down early. I go back to the main dock to check the order; I've still got another thirty people before I slalom. Time to go watch my dad slalom the finals. Juan Carlos Cuglievan set the bar for gold pretty high with a score of 2@39' off. Juan runs his 35 without any glitches and comes back in for 38, turning too hard at the gates and falling after one. We're happy with that score though, he ran 35' off and that's what he needed.

Juan, kicking up some spray at 32' off.

Delfina adds a new sticker to her slalom. We sorta improvised on the "A".

The day ends on the lake as the boat keeps
pulling slalom. They kept going until it was
too dark to ski.

The rest of the day goes by slowly, the entire time spent waiting for my turn in slalom but it seems like it won't get here. It's already four and there's still another twenty people to go before me. Not half an hour later and the announcement is made: my division is being pushed to tomorrow morning, seven am. I'm almost relieved, after spending the entire day at the lake without much physical movement I'm feeling tired and rundown. I'm hoping to feel more energized and pumped tomorrow morning.

We stay to watch the last few slalom skiers before we ditch the place and head back home. On our way we do a drive-by at the beach as twilight falls and fog starts to form in the distance. People are actually camped out in tents on the beach and I've already counted out at least five bonfires. I'm feeling relaxed and calm as I watch this scene play out before me from the back of the truck bed. The feeling sticks with me as we head back home.

We throw together some dinner and settle down to relax before heading to bed. The schedule tomorrow is going to be crazy. Call time of 6:00am to get to the lake way before 7 and before I ski. I'm second on the water. I'll be jumping too, much later and most likely after noon. And by 6 we need to be packed up and ready to make the drive back to Lima, back to the airport, back to reality. I need to get some rest for the early day tomorrow and the lack of sleep I'll have on the plane. Oh, and I'll be skiing too.

Finals tomorrow and the finale of the tournament. Are you with me?

Diary of a Tournament... Day 5

Welcome to the thirtieth Latinamericans. This IS your parents'
tournament. My dad skied in the very first one.

Second day of preliminaries, last day of holding back, and one that was consistent and on task, just what was called for. We've got an early start tomorrow so stay with me for a few minutes if you can 'cause I'm about to lay it on pretty thick.

9:00am Wake up call. Scarf down some breakfast and head towards the site.

9:30am At the lake and ready to hit it. I'm up first and I'll be slaloming in fifteen. I'm not too worried because I know the chances of me making the finals are minimal. My goal is to go out and enjoy myself. I'll get a decent score for my overall score and be done with it. I nail my first two passes and screw up my third. But my third pass is 32' off and I'll take the score of 2 buoys with a grin. It works for me. 

10:00am I finish skiing and in an ironic turn of events I have to race over to the other lake to catch my dad's trick set. Turns out Juan decided to throw some passes together and give it a shot. I jump in the boat and he goes out, purely to enjoy himself. He hasn't had a trick set in months because he's been fine-tuning his slaloming for this very tournament and it already paid off. He runs through a quick hand pass, only missing his last trick. He's down early on his second pass but it's not a big deal; he didn't come out to win tricks. Maybe next year.

11:00am-2:00pm I shift gears and grab my computer, smashing another batch of homework out of the way. I'm keeping an eye on the running order and the skiers to make sure I have plenty of time to get ready before I jump. Meanwhile, the slalom scores come in and I realize that I made the cutoff. I made it to finals and I hadn't given it a second thought beforehand. I think that's why.

2:30pm First Juan, then Mariak come remind me that it's time to go eat. I'm starting to feel the lack of calories in my head and in my stomach. Today's lunch item is pasta and we go sit down at a table to enjoy our quick meal and discuss the next event. Jump.

3:00pm I'll be up fairly soon and I'm starting to get my stuff down to the dock. I'm hardly suited up yet when a judge comes down and says that one of the divisions before mine is being moved forward. i.e., this means that I'm up next. I throw on my equipment and jump in the water. Luckily, I had already mentally prepared and I was close enough to the dock that I had just enough time to get ready without being completely rushed. I take my first jump and the ramp is feeling good, there's some nice kick out of it. There's a technical difficulty with the jump measurement system and I've got to stop at the end of the lake. We wait for five minutes or so before I ask if I can get in the boat, no sense letting my feet cramp up before I've hardly started. It's just a small hiccup and soon enough we're back in the water. I've got to repeat the first jump because they've lost the distance but after making some adjustments and booting out another keeper the technology isn't having it. We have to stop again, this time for a while longer. I chat with the boat crew in the meantime, making sure to keep everyone's spirits lifted, especially my own. HQ gives a few more false alarms before they finally give the green light to put on my skis and keep jumping. I've still got another three jumps to take since they've lost the first two. I have the slight advantage that I'm almost at that sweet spot and I've had some "practice" to get there but the bigger worry is that my legs are starting to lose steam. Three jumps later and I'm satisfied with my score of 138 feet, only a foot of my PB. I know I could've gone farther right now but I qualified for finals and that's all that matters. 

Santiago Robledo, our Colombian "Lion", ranked in the top ten in the
world, cutting hard into the ramp.

4:00pm Results are announced and I'm ranked second going into finals, giving me a nice seeding placement for the order in finals later on. I hang around for a while to watch my fellow skiers hit the ramp. It seems that just about everyone had trouble NOT being early but some people dealt with it better than others. Santiago was one of those as he booted out a beautiful jump putting him first into finals. 

I take the chance to add another saweet-ass sticker to my ski.

5:00pm We stay a little while longer to watch the Open Men prelims and to pack up the rest of the skis for tomorrow. Finals start tomorrow and with it, a complete change in the style of skiing for all of us. We'll make sure to get home and to bed fairly early tonight to be prepared. It's all mental from here on out. 

6:00pm We're out of the lake and on the way to dinner. Tonight is pizza, quick enough to get us home early but loaded up with enough calories and carbs to keep us going for tomorrow. Felipe and I finish off a large.

8:00pm Back home to wrap up a couple last minute things. We set out a few details for tomorrow's schedule and I get back to my room to finish off some pixel-pushing and date-wrangling. By eleven I'm done and ready for what tomorrow brings. Again, I'm out before my head even hits the pillow. I'll be tricking after noon and slaloming near the end of the day and Juan also has his performance to complete. This is it. This is all. This is what the tournament is about, what it all comes down to and everything I've been working towards. Plenty of people have helped me immeasurably along the way but it's now up to me and what I know I can do. It's time to pull out all the stops and push as high as I can. Just do it.

Hope you join me tomorrow as I put in the final effort. Out.

Diary of a Tournament... Day 4: And So It Begins

Juan on the starting dock, five minutes before skiing.
This guy might just be an exception. And he's done it plenty
of times. 

It is now the fourth day of this trip to Peru. But it is the first day of the tournament. And Day 1 of any big tournament like this one brings with it plenty of anticipation, excitement, and butterflies. Doesn't matter how many times you've done it.

Today's call time was rather pleasant. Wheels up to the site at 8:30. We had a calm breakfast while we looked over our ski schedule for the next two days. The first two days of this tournament are just preliminaries, everyone skis and the top 4-6 skiers in each division advance to the final round. Consequently, the skiing order for the last two days have not been released yet and will not be until everyone finished the preliminaries.

Right now all we're focused on is skiing well enough to make it to the final round. It doesn't matter how well we perform right now, even the top skier heading into the finals can end up finishing last. We're holding back right now, playing it safely, covering up our cards. We don't want to pull out all the stops quite yet, not until it's absolutely necessary. The safest way we can ski today while still assuring a place in the finals is all we need.


Juan will be the first one on the water today and we make sure to get to the site with plenty of time for him to gear up, sit down, and focus. I give him some quick advice and run back to the shoreline where I can get a good view of his passes. He goes out and nails it. I mean nails it. Definitely the way to do it.

Turning sharp at 35' off.

Looking like a player around two ball at 38" off.

Meanwhile, on the other lake, the trick event is moving fast and I've only got a few more skiers before I'm up. It's time to switch gears. I replace my camera with my ski and sprint to the starting dock. I'm sticking in a warmup wherever I can. I get my stuff on and being preparing for the event. I'm feeling good.

I think tricking is different than the other events. The preparation is completely unlike any other. To go out and slalom or jump you can be confident, prepared, and unworried that you'll perform mediocrely. You're almost positive that, if the conditions hold, you'll make it past your first few passes or jump close to your top score. But you can go out to trick and fall on your first trick. Or on the second. Or on the third. Everything has to be nearly flawless. Otherwise the unforgiving water claims you as you blankly stare at the boat as it fades away, uncomprehending why you're not with it.

I begin with my toe pass. Solid. It feels slow and easy. And controlled. I prepare for my second pass. I cut hard for my first flip, too hard. I land in a much better position than I'm used to, and closer to the wake as well. Suddenly I'm cutting at the wake once again. I compensate my closeness to the wake with the wrong movement, not pushing hard enough with my legs. I go up and land straight down, solid on my ski. But I have too much slack and not enough control. The ski quickly grabs at the lake and catches, I disappear just as quickly.

Delfina clowning around after her set.

I can't think about it anymore, I have to focus on my next events and not dwell on my mistake. It happens occasionally, I've just got to roll with the punches and keep moving. I still made it to the finals, which was the intended goal. I did what I had to. I grab my camera again and use it as a distraction to take my mind off my skiing. I mange to catch both Mariak and Santiago go out and ski perfectly, setting new Latinamerican records and pushing their personal bests ever higher.

Mariak killed both of her passes. Completely badass.

I spent the rest of the day catching up on homework and watching everyone go out and post some awesome scores. It's not fun but it has to get done. Halfway through, we all took a break to come together as a team and represent the country we're skiing for. It still amazes me that there are so many people from all over South America who travel here for this tournament. I see people I've met in Colombia, Orlando, Miami, everyone reunited for this event. The amount of talent in this one place astounds me.

Mariak and yours truly, totally rocking out the uniforms.

The entire Colombian team. It's awesome how many of us there
are at this tournament.

Our tickets to eat lunch over the course of the tournament. These are pure gold. 

We each had our own two-person bench on which we could
splay out and relax.

We wrapped everything up at around 6. At dinner by 7:30. We ate at a fairly shady Italian spot all the way in the dark, dusty back of the mall. The place was completely empty. As in, not a single customer. Plenty of waiters though, with nothing to do. There were maybe eighty tables, most of them to fit five or six people, every last one without a single soul. But the food was delicious. Mostly the pre-dinner bread. It was ridiculous, this was ten times better than Olive Garden.

We wrapped up fairly quickly and got back to the house by 9. We all wanted to get to bed as soon as possible, some decent sleep tonight is as good as gold. All of us are skiing again tomorrow to finish off the preliminary round. I'll be slaloming and jumping. Juan might even strap on my skis and go out for a trick. I think we'll have to go over a few passes first because, up until now, he doesn't even have one. Tomorrow is, just as today, all about strategy. Keeping it minimal and quiet. Holding it back. We've got a beautiful call time of 9:30. Hope you can check back in tomorrow.

Until then, thanks for the continued well wishes and good vibes.

And thanks for reading all this.

Diary of a Tournament... Day 3

En route to the lake. Can you tell I enjoy the back truck bed?

This post was supposed to go out last night but due to some difficulties finding a connection I've had to wait until now. Keep in mind that this post is about yesterday, Wednesday.


This morning was fairly hardcore but it planed out after that. A 6:30am call time & roll out. We had a few more practice sets to take before the tournament starts tomorrow but we started early and finished early. Today was mostly about finishing off our acclimation to the sites, straightening out a few more details, and resting for tomorrow's performances.

What the typical Peruvian
countryside looks like. There's
a lot of dirt.

We get to the lake by seven am and I'm tricking fifteen minutes later. I finish off my passes, keeping it short and sweet. Forty seconds of skiing and I'm done. I won't trick again until the tournament and I'm feeling well-prepared. Half an hour later and I'm on the dock of the other lake, gearing up for a couple jumps. Our allotted practice time today for the Colombian team was even shorter than yesterday's, if we want to have everybody ski then we've got to be quick and on point. No room for error. No time to waste.

The view of the entrance into the lake site. I had no idea how
much I missed the greenery.

I'm out and feeling the water before long. It's similar to back home, very soft and very sheltered, definitely no chance of wind for the tournament. This is most likely a good thing. First jump and I'm slightly early, I underestimate how slow the water is. Second jump and I'm liking the site, the ramp holds up nicely and there's plenty of float in the air. It's barely nine-thirty and I'm done skiing for the day. The next time on the water will have to be well-defined and prepared, completely focused.

Speaking of details—here's the
Peruvian currency. It literally
translates to: "A new sun".

My cousin's new business. Check out antsbars.com
to order some REAL athlete's energy bars. Created
using all natural fruits, vegetables, and Chia seeds.

We finished practice pretty quickly today—by late morning—and we decided to stay at the lake for a while. Homework had to faced and a ton of details had to be addressed. What time would we be at the lake the next day? Who's on the list to ski first? Where will we be eating lunch tomorrow? If athlete A is skiing on lake X and has to be on lake Y ten minutes later then how can we work that out? Who's going to be covering the toe release for Z skier? Plenty of detailed info but it all needs to be covered. It's a very important aspect of keeping the entire tournament running smoothly.

Once we get everything worked out a few of us decide to go catch some waves at a nearby beach. We grab some surfboards and boardshorts and we all pile into three cars. Half an hour later and we're paddling out to sea. That's another thing I love about skiing—meeting such great talent. I'm constantly surrounded by a huge array of people who are hugely gifted and completely dedicated to what they do. People who aren't cut out for the amount of work it takes quickly are overcome and weeded out. To stand out you've got to be consistent and cut out for the effort.

Some of our talent, geared up to surf.

Wading out to sea. The break we chose was perfect; creating some really nice,
consistent, smooth waves.

Sitting on my board, waiting for a good wave. Taking a second to reflect on how lucky I am to be living in this moment.

The waves are brutal and beautiful at the same time and we make sure to wrap it up before we're too worn out—we've got to ski tomorrow, bright and early. We get back home, grab some quick grub, and head up to bed. Early night tonight, we've got to get a good night's sleep. There's a generous call time of 8:00am tomorrow morning and we're going to make the most of it. Juan is slaloming by 9:30am and I'll be on the water, tricking, by ten o' clock.

Tomorrow is Day 1 of the tournament. I hope you'll join us.

Diary of a Tournament... Day 2.

Juan takes a quick practice set early in the morning. Can you spot the foggy mountains in the back?

In the event that you missed yesterday's post then just scroll down or click here and things will all make sense. To put it concisely, I'm creating short posts recounting each day while I'm here in beautiful Lima, Peru for the Latinamerican tournament. This is mostly to shed some light on what international tournaments like this are like... And to share my adventures with a few people back home. Hi Sasha. Read on if this is of interest. 

The outside of our very Greek home on the beach.

Our host relaxing in the pool. That's the beach and the shoreline right there on the edge.

If I titled Day 1 "Traveling" than Day 2 would be "Scouting". Today was planned around exactly that; taking a couple practice sets on the lake and getting a feel for what the site was like. I also spent some time looking around our base camp for some photographic opps. We've slotted two days of scouting and practice: today's mission was the first of those days.

Our house is the bright orange one. We're literally meters away from the ocean. 

Like I mentioned in my first post we had a fairly early call time of seven am. I scarfed down some breakfast, grabbed my bags, and met up with our house crew of six—yours truly, Juan, our host, and three other Colombian skiers. We drove off towards the site, only a five minute drive. Our host is spectacular at keeping everything running smoothly. 

We're making it there however we can.

The morning sun is downright balmy. Sunny. Hot. We're kept cool by the constant ocean breeze which seems to run through the entire area we're in, definitely a bonus to being at sea level. The scenery seems unusually brown, hardly a tree around—at least until we arrive to the ski site. Lush green trees greet us as we drive underneath, the islands at the ends of the lake are covered in pines, and there's grass abound. Our diamond in the rough. 

I'm first on the water in a line of about twenty. We meet up with the rest of the Colombian team, a huge array of people, most of them good friends who I've skied with before. A nice bonus: my cousin's also here. Hugs and greetings abound. We've got to have everyone hit the water in an hour and a half, our allotted time for our team's practice. Suddenly I'm on the dock and in the water, now very much awake. The water's soft, slow, and warm. Very similar to back home. I'm feeling it.

We move through the rest of our team quickly and smoothly. Perfect. The time restraints aren't prime but we'll roll with the punches and deal with what we're dealt. I manage to catch a bite to eat and some connection to the outside world at the house on the lake, owned by some friends of ours who ski here often. So envious. 

Trick practice is up before I know it and I'm third in line on the water. I move quickly through my passes, steadily and near-flawlessly. Everything's feeling good. Juan even puts on my skis and deals out two old school passes. I'm loving it. We manage to finish up all the skiing at around noon congregate again for another team meeting. Everyone skied great and we're feeling good. High fives are dealt and we head out for lunch.

We, all twenty-five or so of us, settle into a restaurant to relax and recharge. A large part of these two days is making sure that everyone is well-rested and mentally on point for the tournament. We're all ready, now we've just got to perform. Go out and do exactly what we've been practicing for the past several months. We head back home to spend some time on the beach and in the ocean. It's all about rest for the rest of the day.

The same cliff outcrop where I stood earlier today.

The waves crash onto the cliffs as the sun disappears behind the horizon.

#FromWhereIStand: On the edge of the world.

Yours truly standing tall, pimping out the Miami Ski Nautique attire on the top of the cliff outcrop.

Tomorrow morning is an early one: call time at 6:30am. It's ten o' clock and there are still cards to download and blog posts to write before bed. I spend the night preparing some last minute things, editing and compiling all the pixels from today, and writing up this post. I'm awake until midnight before I finally zone. 

The sun sets as fishermen lay out their nets for the night.

We'll be on the water at 7:00 tomorrow morning. I hope you'll join me then.

Diary of a Tournament... Day 1

The buzzer of the intercom rings, interrupting my teacher's lecture. It's the main office, calling me out of school. I grab my stuff and bolt. I've been anticipating this moment since I dragged myself out of bed at 5-something-am this morning. Focusing in class today was difficult, due to the million and one thoughts racing through my head. Finished packing? Mental checklist. Did I eat? It goes on and on. I said most of my goodbyes and probably repeated a few just to be safe. The surreal reality of my day felt like a thin veil, a sheer bubble ready to pop at any moment and violently drop me back into my regular, daily life. I'm pretty sure I pinched myself a few times. In a week from now I'll be back in this some spot, back in school, back in class. But with several different details. And a weeks worth of memories. I walk down to the office and meet my dad in front of the school before we speed off towards the center hub of international transportation to and from Miami: the airport.

That was my afternoon today and what my entire day up until that point was like. I've decided to restart this blog but with a vastly different purpose. I was largely inspired by a friend of mine who also wrote up a blog about her trip halfway across the world. Likewise, I'll be documenting the nuts and bolts of my week in Lima, Peru, as I prepare for and compete in the Latinamerican Championships of 2012. I want to reveal the real underbelly of what it's like. Take some of the glam out of it and leave more of the real snafus. 

I'm not sure how successful I'll be at writing my 'dear diary' every night for seven days straight and the late nights sitting in my bed here with the sound of the Pacific ocean waves crashing onto the beach right outside my window certainly won't help... With staying awake. If some nights all I can manage is a few sentences and a photo then bear with me. We'll see what happens, I'm just testing it out and I have no idea what'll come out of this. But anyways, back to the car ride...

We get to the airport and I drag out my massive bag of ski equipment, hoping I can make it to the check-in. We fly through security and catch our 4:45 pm flight. We make some last minute phone calls to the folks back home and shut off our phones. Connection to the outside world=zilch. I knock out before the plane even takes off. 

10:20 pm. The landing was smooth, (theoretically), and we speed off, we've got to meet up with our connection to where we're staying. We fly through customs, baggage, and immigration without hassle. Before I know it I'm in the cool, tropical, Peru air. The moon shines brightly overhead, reminding me that I should be getting ready for bed right now—if I were back home. Another first, I've never leaved an airport to find someone with a sign and my name on it. It's an odd feeling. I shake hands with our driver for the next hour, Daniel, and we proceed to stuff our bags into his small car. We squeeze into the back seat and we're off. 

10:50 pm. We're driving through the lively city of Lima and it looks gorgeous. I wish I were (a), more awake, or (b), had more light to take pictures with. After a few minutes of this we start to leave the lights and I fade away.

11:55 pm. I'm jolted awake by a large ditch in the road. I'm really hoping this car is up to the terrain we're going through. The city lights have completely disappeared and we're in front of a large, very rocky cliff face. We stop and ask for directions; apparently there's a new detour to take and it involves two tunnels. Sounds sketchy but we trudge onwards. I feel like I'm in a different world at this point, the terrain is reminding me of my friend's photos of her romp through Morocco just a few days before. We come to the tunnels and make it out of both, alive and whole.

12:45 am. We find the oasis in the desert. There's civilization out here; a small town on the coast, shrouded by thick, ominous mountains. The buildings are brightly colored with narrow alleyways to drive in between. It reminds me of Greece and how badly I want to visit someday. We find the second orange building and tumble, half-asleep, out of the car. 

1:15 am. We meet up with our host and he gives us a quick tour around where we'll be staying. The place is pristine and gorgeous, I can't wait to post photos of this place with light and life. The waves crash into cliffs on the beach only meters away. We don't last long though and soon enough we're dropping our gear off in our room. Our host gives us the call time for tomorrow: a half-decent seven at the front door to drive off to the lake. It's not too bad, there's been worse. Some quick math tells me I'll enjoy roughly five hours of sleep.

2:05 am. We're whipped and focused. Stumble into our room and unload some more gear. Write this blog post and hit the hay. Tomorrow we'll be testing the waters to see how they feel under our skis. It also brings the promise of some totally sick photos. Can't wait.

Catch you tomorrow. More to come.