I went skiing in Vermont!

I’ve lived in Massachusetts my entire life, but I didn’t touch a ski until two weeks ago. I joined the club nordic ski team this year because I needed a winter sport. It was harder than I expected it to be, and I fell harder on my bum than I expected to. But I’ve gotten a little better at each practice, and I always come out with a smile, so I decided to go to the race in Vermont this weekend.

Saturday’s race was 15 kilometers on skate skis. (Apparently there are two types of cross-country skiing: classic, in which each ski goes forward, and skate, which uses a horizontal motion similar to ice skating.) The full course was six laps around a loop that I’d call hilly (because I’d only ever skied on a golf course). The downhill right off the start was fast and steep and terrifying. I fell both times I went down, but the falls didn’t hurt, and I got back on my skis and kept going. A coach from another school gave me pointers on the first big uphill, which I marched up painstakingly, skis pointing out to the sides like a New York pizza slice. I fell upwards of two dozen times during the hour I skied, but only one fall—right on my tailbone on a downhill—really hurt. A teammate explained how to slow myself down by putting my weight on the insides of my skis (a technique called snowplowing), and that helped a ton. Skiers from all different schools cheered me on. On my second lap, after which I was probably going to call it quits, I fell on a downhill turn and broke the ski binding right off my boot. I picked up my skis and walked back to the start line, bummed that I couldn’t finish lap two but glad it was the boot that broke, not my ankle.

After the race, we went back to our cute hotel to shower and relax. I did nothing with the rest of my afternoon. I opened my philosophy reading but wound up browsing clipless pedals on the REI website. For dinner, all nine of us went out for some delicious Thai food. My friend Emily and I snagged clearance chocolates at Shaw’s, and then I was in bed before 9:00.

This morning’s race was a sprint relay on classic skis. I took a warm-up lap to remember how to classic ski, and then the first legs of each relay took off. When it was my turn, I didn’t fall on the first downhill! I snowplowed the heck out of it, bent my knees, and reminded myself to breathe, even as I felt scared to my bones. I love going fast down hills on my bike, and I’m sure I’ll get there on skis someday. But today is not that day.

We each did three laps of a 1.3 kilometer loop, and I conquered that downhill every time. I fell in other places. But I had a blast! I loved feeling more capable and confident with each lap. Being in the woods was so fun. I’d be the first to tell you that snow is more work and less fun than it seems, but I really enjoyed being out in the snow. I wish I’d learned to ski sooner, but I know I’ll come back to it sooner or later (i.e. practice tomorrow and when I move to Colorado someday).

Our bus got back to campus around 2:00. I helped unpack the skis, threw my stinky clothes in the wash, and set up my hammock. It’s a warm 50 degrees in Wellesley, and you know what feels great on a sore tailbone? Hanging between a big tree and a lamppost outside Shafer, snuggled under a hoodie, jacket, blanket, and sleeping bag.