I fell down. A lot.

In my last post I said my next post would be about Middlemarch.  I lied.  This weekend my dad came up from Chicago to go cross country skiing.  I figured this would be much more interesting to read (and write) about than my reactions to a book that countless other people have read and thought about.

The first time I went cross country skiing I hated it.  I was about eight years old and my whole family went to a place in Mansfield, Ohio.  I was really clumsy as a kid, and on top of that, the equipment they gave me wasn't the best. I couldn't stay on my feet for more than a few minutes.  At some point I fell and broke one of my flimsy bamboo poles and was forced to ski the rest of the way with one pole, worried that the guy who rented us the gear was going to kill me.  He ended up being very nice about it, but I decided I never wanted to cross country ski again.

I few years later my Girl Scout troop went on a downhill ski outing, which I really enjoyed.  I only fell a couple times, and I didn't have to ski uphill.  I also took up cross country running and liked that as well.  I figured if I liked both downhill skiing and cross country running, I should give cross country skiing another chance, and I'm glad I did.

In the days leading up to my dad's visit, I was worried that we wouldn't even be able to ski because temperatures were predicted to reach 40 degrees. However, when we set out at 7:00 on Sunday morning, it was plenty cold.  We drove about an hour to McMiller Sports Center, which has shooting ranges in addition trails for skiing.  After we got there and my dad had paid the parking and trail fees, we put on our skis made our way to the trail head.  There were several different trails of different lengths, which all shared one side.  We chose to start with the red trail because it was the shortest. 

The only one of us who actually knew what he was doing

 I started out doing pretty well, except that I wasn't using my poles correctly, either because they were too short or because I'm still really uncoordinated (probably both). Because of this, I had a lot of trouble climbing hills.  There were little bumps on the bottoms of ours skis that were supposed to grip the snow, but mine definitely did not.  Despite my short poles and slippery skis, I managed to go longer than I expected without falling.  James, on the other hand, had some difficulty with the downhill portions of the trail, which he made up for by going really fast on the other parts.

Then we reached the first really big hill.  After seeing James completely wipe out at the bottom, my dad told me to put my weight on the outside ski.  I started down the hill.  I was already starting to get warm, and the woosh of the air on my face felt refreshing.  And then I was on my face, legs splayed at a funny angle because of the skis.  My dad had already started down the hill and fell on purpose so he wouldn't run me over.

Even though I probably fell going down most of the hills, I had far more trouble with the uphill portions of the trail.  There was one hill that, had my dad not not been behind me, I probably would have slid right back down.  The second time going up there was no one behind me, and somehow I forced myself to the top.  On another hill, shorter but steeper than the first, all three of us had to turn our skis out and dig the edges into the snow.  My dad and James made it up fine, but I was stuck. Every time I would go to take a step, my back foot would slip causing me to fall.  At one point I got down on my knees and tried to craw up, but it was no use, the snow was too slick. My dad talked me through where to place my poles, and eventually I made it to the top, but it was one of the most physically difficult things I've ever done.

Eventually I got the hang of using my poles and had a little less trouble with the hills.  I managed to make it down a hill that caused me problems earlier because it didn't have any tracks for my skis after the first few feet.  I was also able to swerve around James when he fell as I was already coming down a hill. With my new pole-using skills I ended up almost catching up to James at the end.  At around 11:30 the weather had warmed up considerably and the snow was becoming sticky.  We did three trails for a total of 9.87 kilometers.

I turned out to be pretty much correct in assuming that cross country skiing  would be like a combination of downhill skiing and cross country running, except with more falling down.  It provided an excellent workout while still offering exhilarating downhill portions.  I even started researching skis as a possible Christmas present in the future.

James and I getting ready to leave

The rest of the weekend pretty much consisted of eating.  On Saturday we went to a Mediterranean and Turkish restaurant called Husnu's.  We each got some form of lamb on a stick, and everything was delicious.  On Sunday after skiing, we went to a tapas-style restaurant called Eno-Vino.  I got the chance to try scallops on their own, instead of wrapped in bacon or stuffed into a piece of fish. I'm really glad I'm not allergic to them and also kind of angry at Red Lobster for making my mom think I was.  We ordered way too much food at Eno-Vino, so I got to eat it again the next night.

So, all in all, a pretty fun weekend.  We got to visit with my dad and found something really fun to do in the winter when normal outdoor activities just aren't possible.