Groanings the Day After
Posted by wulfgar at 05:25 PM on February 5, 2006.
I disagree with polaris' tip: falling while skiing can save our life.
I am in pain right now. Every limb is groaning in misery with every move I try to make. Ah but it was all worth it. We went skiing yesterday at Gala Yuzawa in Niigata. The snow is magic!
Riding the ski lifts was the most peaceful thing I've done in a while. You can never appreciate the Biblical simile 'as white as snow' until you see the real thing. And there I was, sitting and gently swaying over cliffs and miles and miles of pure and powdery snow, wishing that the ride would last forever.
Ah but it never does. When you get to the end of the line you had to stand up and ski like hell or else the next lift chair will hit you square in the back.
The second most peaceful thing I've done in a while was gently coasting down the ski slope. Snowflakes were washing over my face; I opened my mouth and tasted the snow as it fell. It tasted like the bitter cold.
Going back to falling, my last ski downhill was on a slope that was supposedly for beginners, only longer than the one I've been coasting on that morning. So off we went, M and N and I, to the ski lifts to conquer this slope.
Ah but it wasn't for beginners at all. I think we got lost somewhere.
The path was narrow, and the only thing that separates you from the cliffs to the left was orange netting about a foot high. I doubt if it can stop an out-of-control skier from plunging to a cold, white death below. The grade was so steep, there was no way to slow yourself down the way our instructor taught us earlier. No matter how hard I pressed on my heels while bringing together the tips of my skis, my speed just kept on growing and growing and growing and growing...
But there was no other way down except by ski. So off I went. For what seemed like forever, I skied, gained too much speed, then dived at the snow to stop myself. Afterwards, I got up, reattached my skis (if I fell so violently that they got detached), and started coasting downhill once more. It was snowing so heavily that I could barely see the people in front of me. On my nth fall I was seriously wondering if I would make it back to the station. I was bruised, tired, and my goggles were already fogged.
When I got to the station, icicles had formed on my goatee and my snot was frozen under my nose. But I made it. Thank God I made it. After that, it was back to the lockers for me.
Ah but it was worth it. All the bruises, the windburn on my cheeks, the incessant groaning starting this morning that will probably last for a week.
I think I'll try snowboarding next time.
I am in pain right now. Every limb is groaning in misery with every move I try to make. Ah but it was all worth it. We went skiing yesterday at Gala Yuzawa in Niigata. The snow is magic!
Riding the ski lifts was the most peaceful thing I've done in a while. You can never appreciate the Biblical simile 'as white as snow' until you see the real thing. And there I was, sitting and gently swaying over cliffs and miles and miles of pure and powdery snow, wishing that the ride would last forever.
Ah but it never does. When you get to the end of the line you had to stand up and ski like hell or else the next lift chair will hit you square in the back.
The second most peaceful thing I've done in a while was gently coasting down the ski slope. Snowflakes were washing over my face; I opened my mouth and tasted the snow as it fell. It tasted like the bitter cold.
Going back to falling, my last ski downhill was on a slope that was supposedly for beginners, only longer than the one I've been coasting on that morning. So off we went, M and N and I, to the ski lifts to conquer this slope.
Ah but it wasn't for beginners at all. I think we got lost somewhere.
The path was narrow, and the only thing that separates you from the cliffs to the left was orange netting about a foot high. I doubt if it can stop an out-of-control skier from plunging to a cold, white death below. The grade was so steep, there was no way to slow yourself down the way our instructor taught us earlier. No matter how hard I pressed on my heels while bringing together the tips of my skis, my speed just kept on growing and growing and growing and growing...
But there was no other way down except by ski. So off I went. For what seemed like forever, I skied, gained too much speed, then dived at the snow to stop myself. Afterwards, I got up, reattached my skis (if I fell so violently that they got detached), and started coasting downhill once more. It was snowing so heavily that I could barely see the people in front of me. On my nth fall I was seriously wondering if I would make it back to the station. I was bruised, tired, and my goggles were already fogged.
When I got to the station, icicles had formed on my goatee and my snot was frozen under my nose. But I made it. Thank God I made it. After that, it was back to the lockers for me.
Ah but it was worth it. All the bruises, the windburn on my cheeks, the incessant groaning starting this morning that will probably last for a week.
I think I'll try snowboarding next time.