Skiing

One of the things I thought about a lot while in Finland was cross-country skiing. It seemed like my last 5 months were a continuous tempt-fest of kids hauling their skis out after school and skiing all over the woods while I tracted. I was so jealous of these lucky Finnish preteens who lived in a place where impeccable ski trails and virgin snow in the forest was halfway between their apartment and their neighbourhood school. I couldn't wait to get out to the mountains when I got home.

Of course, by the time winter rolled around this year, I had forgotten about my deep yearning for skis on my feet and was ridiculously occupied with five university courses and two part-time jobs. I didn't make it out on cross-country skis until February, when I visited Jaima in Edmonton and accompanied her to Chicks with Sticks, the local ski group. I loved it so much and was finally reminded of my love for outdoor snow sports.

It wasn't until yesterday, however, that the circle was complete. Dad and I made it up to Sunchine for an afternoon of downhill skiing, which I haven't done for over three years. He's been bugging me to go with him all season, but I've either been busy or not feeling like it. Truth be told, it's been so long since I skied that I forgot how much I love it and how much fun it is. Every time Dad suggested a ski day, I would groan inwardly and think, "Why would we drive all that way for a day of sliding down hills with sticks?"

I have repented of that great evil. Yesterday, while cruising down my favourite run at Sunshine, Bye-Bye Bowl, during a moment of bright sunshine, finding patches of soft, white snow, I was reminded of the reasons why I love skiing. Why I've been doing it since I was three years old, why I have up snowboarding after that one lesson, why I am scared of heights and fast speeds with any gear other than skis on my feet and poles in my hand. There's nothing like being in the mountains when it's cold and white and the flakes are flying in your face. Even better is when the sun is glinting off the fresh snow and there's not a cloud in sight, especially if it's -30 degrees and the resort is like a tomb.

Here's to skiing, whether heels strapped down or not.