Remember that part where I complain about how much freakin' snow falls from the sky over this part of the world? And the part where I complain again? And the part where I both whine, moan and complain?

At the risk of you perhaps thinking you have already read this particular post, let me preface it by warning you that I am about to complain about copious amounts of snow once more.

This is what we woke up to this morning ...

I think it's a lumber yard that we can see from our hotel window, however there is a slight possibility that it is a Smurf colony. I can't really tell, because of THE TWO FEET OF SNOW THAT HAS BEEN POURED DOWN UPON US BY THE ANGRY GODS OF WINTER.

This is possibly a van. Or a maybe scaled replica of the Titanic. Or perhaps a small village of arctic gnomes have built their imperial city here. I wouldn't really know, because MOTHER NATURE SEEMS TO BE EXPERIENCING HORMONAL FLUNCTUATIONS AT THIS GIVEN POINT IN HISTORY AND IS TAKING HER MOOD CHANGES OUT OF THE INNOCENT SKELETON ATHLETES OF THE WORLD.

Ask me how I really feel.

What's that, you ask? How do I really feel?

Well, let me begin by saying I am glad that the FIBT officials instituted common sense as a policy today and didn't make us slide. Days like this are a waste of a training run in my opinion. When you only get six trips down a track before a race, it's not doing anyone any good to spend 33 percent of those runs clearing snow drifts with your face at speeds that would bore even my Grandma.

That said, CAN'T WE GET A FREAKIN' WEEK OF SNOWLESS TRAINING FOR ONCE? Global warming my ass ... the polar bears would be doing just fine on the Europa Cup circuit.