Overheard

A table full of the local working class and pretend-working-class athletes were chatting over lunch today at the other end of the lodge.

"I've seen some people out on their bikes already," ventured one.

"Yeah, way too early for that. You want to tell them, 'slow down, not so fast,'" said another.

"Yeah, I've been doing really well holding myself back," said the first. "I'm still skiing."

Too early for what? Too early to expect balmy breezes on your shaven legs, but not too early to show the steel in your character by venturing forth on beater bikes and fixed gears in pursuit of virtuous early miles.

Ski if you like, but the handwriting is scrawled large on the dirty slush. Even if we get the usual April Fools gift of glop, the groomed Nordic thing has gone down the tubes. If the high ranges (relatively speaking) get a heavy load of late-season bounty, that's a ski of a different shape and heft, let alone color. That's the signal for the infamous multi-sport days, shooting couloirs for part of the day, racking up road miles in the other part. Which goes where depends on the temperature swing and the consistency of the original snow.

If you really do have to fit a lot of things into your schedule you will have to choose. The sun is rising on the bike season. It's a good time to play "spring classic" with some quality masochism on the sandy, chunked-up asphalt.