Saturday, January 17, 2004

Coming late to the sport as I did, I have always associated skiing with certain unwholesome activities. I had not quite realized this until I got on the chair for my second run of the night and suddenly found that I was really craving a cigarette. Man, I'd forgotten how nice that chairlift smoke used to be, but I shook it off. We were in serious single digits last night, and a little something on the hip would have been nice too, but it is a high school ski bus, and even I realized that whisky breath would be regarded as inappropriate.

It was funny too how whatever skills I had returned to me. They came in increments, little things, so that on my first run it was almost like I'd never skied, and on the second I remembered how to use the hill, and on the third I remembered how to use my edges, and on the fourth I was able to start shifting my weight effectively. I took it easy, and I should have taken a lesson, but by the end of the night I felt like I more or less had it back. There shouldn't be a slope on that mountain that I can't ski, but I think I'll have to take it in stages.

The other thing I discovered is that I have no quads. I can't think where they could have got to, but they aren't on my legs, for sure. I hate that, because it means I'm going to have to do squats, and I hate squats.

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