Love of Skiing

So last winter, I fell in love.  No, not with another person (Mark, you still have my heart), but with the amazing and glorious experience of flying through the forest on two skinny little pieces of synthetic foam and fiberglass.  

Skate skiing, how do I love thee?  Let me count the ways.  I love thee enough to get up at five in the morning even though I only got three hours of sleep so that I can get in one more time of skiing before I go to Arizona in February, even though it is only 5 degrees out.  (That was too cold, by the way.)  I love thee enough to keep trying, even though I lose my rhythm constantly, have to stop every hundred yards or so to catch my breath, and realize that I have no upper body strength.  (Skate skiing, you kicked my ass, but I still love you.)  I love thee enough to buy a grooming membership so that I can receive daily email updates regarding trail conditions.  I love thee enough to take off my skis and walk over each bare spot that appeared as an unwelcome visitor to my snowy trail with the coming of spring.  (And still I keep returning.)

Each time I went skiing, I got a little bit better.  I marked my progress with the dropping off of things that I had to pay attention to.  For example, one day I realized I had skied all the way around the Headwaters Trail (5k!) and not thought once about keeping the tips of my skis up!  Prior to this, if I didn’t think about it, the tips would catch in the snow.  Now you can see the absolute basic level at which I started. 

Each time I went though, there was always a moment (or more) of bliss.  You fly through the forest, everything white and beautiful.  It’s an effortless, smooth rhythm, and you see why people love this and what you are striving for.  You hear the birds, maybe even see a deer.  The Skater’s Waltz plays in your head, and you stroke in time.  Then it’s wobble, stumble, whoops, think what you’re doing! stop for a rest, drink of water, mop the sweat from your brow, start again, drop the arms, concentrate! glide, add the arms back in, okay, you’re going.  Keep going. 

It’s been a lo-o-o-o-ng learning curve, and I’m sure it’s nowhere near over, but I can’t wait for ski season to come again so I can get back on those skinny little skis and FLY!