The Obligatory

Yup. There it is. Something no one in my family, myself included, ever thought they'd see. Me, skiing. Thrill at the marvelous snowpack. Gape in amazement at my skillfully coordinated hodgepodge of a skiing outfit, cobbled together from bits and pieces of other peoples' old outfits. Gawk as I pretend I'm athletic.

Skiing is something just about everyone else in my family does, and one of the many outdoor activities I just never got into when I was growing up. But for some reason, I decided to stop talking about trying it and finally "hit the slopes," as I understand skiers say.

Right now, I'm chalking it up to a pre-mid-midlife crisis ... or something like the constant, ongoing crisis that is my life. 2005 has been rife with examples of me doing things I never thought I'd be doing - voluntarily hiking up the tallest waterfall in North America in hundred degree heat; solo hiking and camping in Oregon for a week; eating fish - so what the hell, right? Let's add skiing to that list.

I got to Mount Southington Wednesday afternoon, where my mother and 14-year-old sister thankfully walked me through the complicated process of putting on ski boots. I was able to balance myself in them pretty quickly, and loudly trudged my way to the instructors' booth at the foot of the bunny hill.

Soon I was awkwardly putting on my rented skis with the rest of my n00b group and learning the wonders of the wedge position. Within no time, I was on the rope pull to the halfway point of the bunny hill.


And of course, within no time after that, I found myself with my ass involuntarily planted in the snow.

But with some help from my knowledgeable (and extremely patient) instructor, I was able to gather enough momentum to make it a good 10-15 meters before falling again. I will say that the one thing I was immediately good at in skiing was falling down. Only the first time did I bend and twist my leg into unnatural positions. After that, I was down and up again in a matter of seconds.

Soon, we were taking the Big Kids ski-lift up to a higher part of the bunny hill, which, admittedly, I was probably not ready for. On that particular run, I must have hit the ground a dozen times. I will say, however, that they were not because of loss of balance, but because I was going too fast and didn't want to plow into groups of errant toddlers. Even though that would be pretty funny to watch.

And of course, all it took was a physics-based explanation of friction and force to get me to understand what I had to do to control speed and direction. Proving, once again, that you can take the nerd outside, but you can't take the ... um ... well, nerd out of the nerd, I guess. Bad analogy, but you get the point.

And I was terrible at physics in high school.


And immediately after that, I was cruising down the hill at respectable speeds without falling or hitting anyone. This picture would be impressive, were it not for the six year old to my right and the eight year old behind me. Still, you have to accept when life gives you little victories, and I will count this as one ... even though I was so sore I could barely move the next day, and I think I may have busted up my knee something fierce.

Next year, I plan on rock climbing in the desert and sleeping with bears in Alaska.

Until then, anyone want to rock the Kiddie Slopes at Big Bear?

Labels: travel

casey-

where are your poles?? those might have helped you stay balanced...or at least look the part....and why are your skis so tiny?

w the f on that one.

-shayna

casey,
if you're planning on visiting alaska: bring more than enough money for gas (you'll be doing a lot of driving - distance is measured in days, not miles); stop by seward and climb mt marathon (it's only 3,022 ft); visit sterling (not much there, but my family founded it - started out as naptown, named for the inn they built there).
there's more, but i doubt you'll even read this. if you do, and you're interested in hearing more or getting some connections up there, contact me at ravenxenigma@yahoo.com
~rebecca