As fall faded in Colorado, where I live, I started to get bummed. Peak winter this year coincided with my third trimester of pregnancy and I assumed two things would happen: I’d get bigger and more uncomfortable as my baby doubled in size, and I’d be waddling around icy sidewalks trying to ignore everyone out ripping backcountry pow laps. Only the first part of that came true. While I’m not having my typical ski season, I’ve found delight in early morning uphill laps at the local hill.