Right, I’ll say it. I think black runs are actually pretty shit and I don’t like them. When I go snowboarding, I want to have fun; mobbing around with my pals, boosting sidehits, razzing through the park, I don’t want to cautiously slide my way down a piste steeper than Germany’s tax rates, full of bottle necks and covered in boilerplate ice. Black runs are the snowboarding equivalent of driving a sports car- we get it, you’ve got a tiny pecker.*
* There are some exceptions to this. If you’re aged 60+ and you’re one of those leathery-faced, rock-hard-thighed veterans who came out the womb in a fully tucked schuss position, you have my full blessing to go buckwild on Black Runs. You eat that shit for breakfast and more power to you.
“There’s always at least one lone child sobbing after their dickhead parents aggressively raced to the bottom”
Before all you weirdos with a hard on for moguls start doxing me and sending bags of dog shit to my mum, hear me out. Is it fun? Have a proper think about it and tell me honestly that it’s an enjoyable experience.
The inevitable truth of black runs is there’s always at least one lone child sobbing after their dickhead parents aggressively raced to the bottom to show off their skills, the child’s shrill cries pierce the air and are now the soundtrack to your formally enjoyable day on the hill. You have to weave your way between skiers dejectedly walking uphill to retrieve the skis that came off as they slid 300m down on their arse, desperately avoiding eye contact in case they ask you to pick up their stuff and ride it down to them.