Monday, February 4, 2008
We hiked down the hill to the village to enroll the kids in their ski school, and the instructor looked at us and said, "Okay, parents see you at 3:30."
Tom and I retreated, hiking back to the resort to sip coffee with Dick and Clint. Later, we drove up Peak 8 to the Nordic Center to check out the cross-country skiing. I have nixed downhill skiing for myself, sticking to my original plan of trying cross country skiing. Tom thought I could probably walk to the center, but I opted for driving it to get the lay of the land.
Good plan. Peak 8 was up, up, up the mountain. On the passenger side, I looked out the window and tried not to panic. What the hell? I thought I'd be on a level surface, and instead, I'm traveling further up the mountain. The sky was darkening in the east.
The Nordic Center was a small log cabin in the middle of a forest. The employees gave us information on skiing, and we decided to join a pregnant woman in the 10:30 AM class. Dawn was a teacher from Ft. Lauderdale. She loved skiing but discovered she was with child right before they left for Colorado. Why didn't I think of that?
Dawn decided to cross-country ski instead. She was a cutie, and suddenly Tom, who spent the last month telling me how hard cross country is, decided he will join us. We were later joined by an Indian woman named Carmen.
We were fitted for boots and skies, and off we went with instructor Matt. He led us to a spot where he taught us how to attach the boot to each ski, how to turn in them, and how to stop when going downhill. Huh? Downhill?
Me: "What do you mean downhill?"
Matt: "Well, Cara, we will be doing a lot of uphill climbing, but then we will have to go downhill. That's the way the hills work."
Me: "Well, I hadn't counted on that." (Notice I turned the other cheek on his sarcasm)
Dawn: "You'll be fine."
Matt had us get into ruts made by some other skiers. It began snowing. He taught us to slide our skis forward, to push with our poles, and to head out.
I pushed and slid. I looked up, and everyone was gone. Poof. Vanished. They skied off and left me.
I ignored their meanness and continued sliding and pushing. I felt like an old man from Florida shuffling along in my bedroom slippers.
Both skis suddenly slid, and I locked my knees, scolding myself aloud. Matt told us locking the knees was the wrong thing to do. I'm supposed to bend my knees and lean forward, so I got myself back on track and continued with the sliding and pushing.
Suddenly Matt appeared at my side. Oh, did you notice someone missing from the group? I did not voice this aloud, nor did I mutter anything when he encouraged me to go at my own pace. He, however, must've gotten a sense of my irritation because he skied back and forth between me and the others, always encouraging me to bend and lean forward. I follow his instructions.
Eventually, I got to a point where I could see the others ahead. They had abandoned their ski poles and were getting instructions on descending a small hill. They spied me, and everything came to a halt while they watched me ski.
Matt took away my poles. I felt as if he removed my lifeline. Matt discussed how we were to slide our skis out to the side, how we would make a V, and turn our feet in toward our bodies.
Uh? Okay.
The others flew down the hill. I shuffled, slid, and tried hard not to scream as my feet moved faster. I reached the others and immediately fell on my ass.
Matt was kind. He took the opportunity of me on the ground to show the proper way to get back up.
He fell to the ground. Dawn, being kind, joined him. The others followed, and we practiced the two ways in which to get back up on our skis. Then we turned around and skied up the hill. I did that quite nicely.
The rest of the lesson involved practicing going up hills as well as going down the hills.
I talked aloud to myself for encouragement. I listened to Matt's advice to bend, lean forward, and put my hands on my knees.
I got pretty good at stopping while skiing downhill. I was quite good at going uphill. The lesson ended after an hour, and Tom and I went off on our own on a trail. I felt pretty good.
It snowed pretty hard during the lesson, and it continued on the trail. By the time we finished, we were covered in snow from our head to our toes. I was sweating, but that turned out to be snow melting in my hair.
My knees are sore, my legs are feeling the exercise, and my triceps are aching from using the lifeline ski poles. But I have done it. I have skied.
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