A few years ago, I frowned on winter sports. I mean, it’s cold and windy outside, and inside is so very, very warm. Leave it to the winter Olympians, I thought. But then I discovered walking in the snowy woods (I’m a slow learner) and how if you actually just layer up like your mother tells you, you can be outside without crying. These days, I walk every morning unless it’s a blizzard. I draw the line at driving snow pelting my face.
Today’s chapter in Embracing Outdoor Activity featured a stab at cross-country skiing. The strong sun, smooth trails, and patient teacher who piled on the positive encouragement (he’s my boyfriend, so he had to), conspired to make a believer out of the former I Prefer the Lodge Me.
Somehow, I found myself gliding down one bunny hill after another, never wiping out, despite the feeling that I was in a runaway train careening toward a ravine. I did, however, master the art of falling down while just walking from one spot to another.
The best part? Skiing makes you super tall…
Mostly though, my view was of my feet, marveling at how skis have a mind of their own despite me swearing at them to Go to the left! Go to the left!