DISCLAIMER: This column is not about Colorado natives having egos whatsoever.

For the past two Octobers, I have partaken in the absolute chaos that is A-Basin’s opening day–a momentous occasion full of beer-drinking, parking lot-grilling, snowball-throwing and a just little bit of skiing and snowboarding.

This day has grown to hold more importance than any major holiday among my group of friends. Getting on snow was better than any Christmas gift, parking lot lunch trumped the tastiest of Thanksgiving dinners and New Year’s Eve could never match up to the burning anticipation behind that of opening day. It was all so exciting for so many reasons, naturally becoming a tradition that would seemingly never end.

Yet this year, it did end, because, regrettably, all I could focus on were the negatives. Waiting in line all day just to share a crowded trail with a bunch of out-of-control skiers and boarders? “No thanks,” I said. “Been there, done that.”
So, instead of continuing the tradition, which I somehow forgot meant the world to me, I stayed in Denver.

As I hung out at my apartment, doing nothing specifically exciting, guilt hit me harder than an opening day collision. I had ended a beautiful tradition, and it was all due to a classic case of the Colorado ego. Yup, it finally got the best of me and I’m not afraid to admit it. Allow me to explain:

Native students excluded, think back to the day you got accepted to DU. You were so excited to move to Colorado, experience the state’s opportunities and adjust to a new, exciting chapter of life.

Now think about today. Are you equally as excited as you were then? Your answer is hopefully yes, but most likely no. After spending some time here, it’s easy to take things for granted–especially the small things–but in reality these are what mean the most, day in and day out, no matter how long you’ve been at DU.

If I told 18-year-old Connor that I decided not to go skiing on October 17, he would have shook that Colorado ego right back out–and that’s the approach I’m going to take now when it comes to these situations.

Next time I consider skipping out on something because I’ve done it before, or because it doesn’t seem good enough, I’ll ask the old me–bored out of his mind in high school–what he thinks, because I know that every time, he’s going to tell me to get up and go.

So after a day full of guilt, I went for the rebuttal and drove up to A-Basin. I drank beer, I ate in the parking lot, I threw snowballs and did a little skiing. It was the absolute best day I’ve had since the closing day of last season, and the whole time, I shook my head in regret about my decision the day before.

But through this emotional rollercoaster, which is an understatement for how it all went down, I am grateful because I learned a valuable lesson that I will always go by–one that I suggest you go by too: Don’t ever think you’re too good for anything out here. This winter, when you say there’s not enough snow, or it’s too cold, or it’s not sunny enough or you’re too hungover, think again. Other, less-fortunate people would kill to spend a just minute in your shoes, so when you eventually kick those shoes off and call it quits, make sure they’re absolutely filthy with anything but regret.