Tuesday, January 21, 2014

Ski Walk of Shame

 On birthdays, specifically my birthday, my husband and I generally do things that extend a bit past my comfort zone. (On his, we were snorkeling happily in Hawaii. Hmm.) On my last birthday, I bravely declared I was ready for the "Most Difficult" cross country ski trail. After all, I reasoned, I never skied in tracks at home. Instead we plowed through knee deep snow on alleged cross country routes, designed by telemark skiers. How hard could a groomed trail be? But the Most Difficult route really was, most difficult. Sadly, staring at a Hill of Death, I realized that I was going to have to take off my skis and do the Walk of Ski Shame.

Ugh.

It was time for another birthday and the possibility of a Ski Walk of Shame loomed over my head. I know, I know, nobody cares. The Lycra-clad skate skiers don't care! The Man in Retro Gold Tights doesn't care! I'm the only one who cares.

While 45 degrees in January is troubling, we managed to find some snow at Anthony Lakes. Everybody and their brother was there, basically because there's no snow anywhere else. It was fun to ski out on the (hopefully frozen) lakes. As I skied out there I wondered, why is nobody else out here? Maybe better not to ponder this and keep going.

This is Hoffer Lakes. I snowshoed up to this one. Skiing down the very steep trail would have entailed a Ski Walk of Shame for sure.
Oh what's the name of this lake? I can't remember. It's by a little campground.
I launched myself on a "More Difficult" ski trail and waited for the inevitable. The zooming out of control. The cratering face first while Man in Gold Retro Tights curiously skied by, accompanied by Wife in Fleece. The Ski Walk of Shame. But...everything went fine. I negotiated steep turns at a fast pace. I didn't fall. I didn't walk.

I'm not sure why sometimes everything aligns and other times it doesn't. Sometimes you make it to the top of the mountain, sometimes you don't. You bonk, or you don't. You walk with your skis or you go for it. You can trace it back to fuel or water or lack of rest days or whatever, but sometimes there just seems to be luck involved. Some days I head out for a run totally dreading it, and it is the best run ever. Other times I bounce out the door and shuffle defeatedly along. One of my best runs ever was after I ate two chocolate chip cookies for breakfast.

Who knows what we are capable of? All we can do is ask and find out.



2 comments:

  1. Yahoo! Good for you for getting out there and going for it. Yeah, I'm a fairly new backcountry skier. I've had some really, really bad days and then I've had a few shining great days. It's the shining great days that keep me coming back.

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    Replies
    1. Same! Somehow I forget the bad days.

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