Ode to skiing
I love you, but I hate you.
I hate you, but very occasionally I love you.
Mainly. I just hate you.
Maybe you prefer Shakespeare?
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
No. I shall not.
Skiing and I have long enjoyed a robust love/hate relationship and if the above is any indication, you’ve probably guessed that the relationship leans decidedly toward the latter.
I am what you would call a *conservative skier (see below for definitions). But, the funny part is I can actually ski.
My husband, a keen skier, has for several winters now relentlessly dragged brought the family along on these white-knuckle inducing adventure-filled, frigidly cold delightfully frosty days of fun to enjoy Canada’s nuclear winter winter wonderland. And so, despite my conservative tendencies and better judgement, over the years I have learnt to ski.
Naturally, the kids picked it up in no time and now gleefully hurtle past me like the fearless little bullets they are. While I, on the other hand, can be found slowly and steadily criss-crossing the mountain, as I attempt to defy both gravity and death’s magnetic pull.
My typical ski day usually goes something like this:
After several runs of ‘braking’ my way down the hill in sheer terror, I eventually get my ski legs and for one glorious run – I am skiing grace and beauty personified. I can shoosh down the hill with the best of them*.
During the final stage of my skiing day, I’m overcome by exhaustion and fatigue (from all the braking) which means, I have to get off the gosh-darn* hill asap, before I do myself a serious physical injury.
Glossary of euphemisms:
Term: Conservative skier
Actual meaning: Hurtling down an icy white slope on two fibreglass toothpicks designed for minimal friction, directly resulting in you falling down said slope as fast as gravity will allow…is not my idea of fun.
Expession: Shoosh down the hill with the best of them.
Actual meaning: Can make it down the hill without feeling like I’ve just leapt off a bungee tower without the cord, and am rocketing towards certain death.
Term: Gosh darn
Actual meaning: *&$#!!! Insert your favourite expletive here. This blog is g-rated.
So, in conclusion dear reader, I can only hope your skiing experiences (or lack thereof, which would be preferable in my opinion) are more positive than mine. Take my advice, join the apres ski set and with a steaming hot chocolate in hand (or something stronger), watch the madness from the warm comfort of the ski lodge instead.
Happy not skiing,