Learning to Ski

“Wooo Hoooo!” I heard as Michelle skied out of sight. I knew this meant a hill was coming and, from the sound of her whoop, it was a big one. I’d never cross country skied before, but when my mom’s boss asked me to come with her, I thought it would be a great opportunity to learn. I wasn’t much for winter sports. I couldn’t stand on ice skates. Snowmobiling was not my cup of tea. I didn’t like the gas smell that emitted from the riders in every restaurant and store all winter long. Snow shoe-ing was okay, but not very exciting. I liked sledding, but one could hardly call that a sport. Eager to get outside and enjoy winter, I gladly accepted the invite.

We skied for most of the day, and we moved to more technical trails each time we relocated. This was our fourth trail of the day. I was doing well, but sometimes could not keep up with Michelle, who was a much more experienced skier. I came around a corner and saw the hill Michelle whooped about. It was a pretty big one. I planted my poles and pushed hard down the hill. I heard her yell something back to me, but I couldn’t understand her words. Faster and faster I went down the hill. She said something again.

As I flew through the air, I attempted to “tuck and roll”. I planted myself firmly in the snow bank, snow finding its way into every opening in my clothing, with nothing injured by my pride. I laughed as I realized her words must have been, “Lift your ski tips. There’s a tree across the path!”

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