Ok I went downhill skiing today.
About a month ago, I signed my 13-year-old daughter and me up for her Girl Scout troop's trip to Trollhaugen ski park.
I drove her out there , about an hour northeast of our home, just across the Wisconsin boarder, and we met her friends and thier parents. The ski boot the lady behind the counter gave me was like a plastic cast. They also issued us each skis that snap on to the boots. It was totally painful to walk with those boots, outside in the snow. Later I found out that one of my socks was folded over and my left boot was practically cutting off my ciculation because of it.
One of the other parents, who comes here all the time, walked my daughter and me to a flat area for beginning ski lessons. The two of us got personal attention. It must be rare that they get a 42 year old new skiier, because I could see that the small groups before us and after us were all very small children. They all seemed to catch on quickly. I kept sliding sideways, to the left side , even when my skis were both pointing straight ahead and I was trying to stand still. Each teacher we had in this progression of new skier stations we moved ahead too told me it was because I was too tense, and tried to lecture me about how I should be putting more weight on the side of my foot, in spite of the fact that my feet had no flexibility in those boots at all. It was frustrating to me.
We went in and had hog dogs and pop with the Scouts, for lunch. That's when I got the chance to loosen the boots put them back on so they felt better. Then my daughter absolutely refused to go back out there. She gets frustrated, and gives up, like I used to when I was her age. I can't talk her out of it.
So I went back out without her. Back to the beginning hill. In fact behind the beginning hill is an even smaller beginning hill. Now full of enthusiastic teen aged ski teachers teaching small groups of pre-schoolers. And me. I skiied down that very small incline, and kept trying to "break" or come to a stop, by crossing my skis in front, but it never did work no matter how many times I tried again. It just made me ski just as fast, in the direction of the arrow created by my crossed skis. As my last effort, I skied down the beginner hill anyway, even knowing I wan't prepared. Of course, toward the bottom, I fell, as I had so many times today already. But I did do it, and that's what I wanted to do.
So my daughter had been sitting alone in the Trollhaugen convention center for about an hour by hereslf, by then. We turned in our skis and our boots. It felt so good to put on my shoes again, and walk around in them.
I drove her home, long before the other girls and their families left. And my husband had ox-tail soup cooking! I was so glad to be home. We watched my dvd of The Devil and Daniel Johnston, from Netflix. It was disturbing to me, due to yet another reference to a boy who was academically brilliant and ahead of the class, but disruptive and defiant. My 8-year-old son's most recent school conference was all about that. I came right out and told his teacher and his advanced-math teacher, who met with me together, that I sometimes wonder if he as Asperger's syndrome. They looked at each other and told me they'd both suggested that possibility to each other, recently, themselves!
Well I got to go take a hot bath.
About a month ago, I signed my 13-year-old daughter and me up for her Girl Scout troop's trip to Trollhaugen ski park.
I drove her out there , about an hour northeast of our home, just across the Wisconsin boarder, and we met her friends and thier parents. The ski boot the lady behind the counter gave me was like a plastic cast. They also issued us each skis that snap on to the boots. It was totally painful to walk with those boots, outside in the snow. Later I found out that one of my socks was folded over and my left boot was practically cutting off my ciculation because of it.
One of the other parents, who comes here all the time, walked my daughter and me to a flat area for beginning ski lessons. The two of us got personal attention. It must be rare that they get a 42 year old new skiier, because I could see that the small groups before us and after us were all very small children. They all seemed to catch on quickly. I kept sliding sideways, to the left side , even when my skis were both pointing straight ahead and I was trying to stand still. Each teacher we had in this progression of new skier stations we moved ahead too told me it was because I was too tense, and tried to lecture me about how I should be putting more weight on the side of my foot, in spite of the fact that my feet had no flexibility in those boots at all. It was frustrating to me.
We went in and had hog dogs and pop with the Scouts, for lunch. That's when I got the chance to loosen the boots put them back on so they felt better. Then my daughter absolutely refused to go back out there. She gets frustrated, and gives up, like I used to when I was her age. I can't talk her out of it.
So I went back out without her. Back to the beginning hill. In fact behind the beginning hill is an even smaller beginning hill. Now full of enthusiastic teen aged ski teachers teaching small groups of pre-schoolers. And me. I skiied down that very small incline, and kept trying to "break" or come to a stop, by crossing my skis in front, but it never did work no matter how many times I tried again. It just made me ski just as fast, in the direction of the arrow created by my crossed skis. As my last effort, I skied down the beginner hill anyway, even knowing I wan't prepared. Of course, toward the bottom, I fell, as I had so many times today already. But I did do it, and that's what I wanted to do.
So my daughter had been sitting alone in the Trollhaugen convention center for about an hour by hereslf, by then. We turned in our skis and our boots. It felt so good to put on my shoes again, and walk around in them.
I drove her home, long before the other girls and their families left. And my husband had ox-tail soup cooking! I was so glad to be home. We watched my dvd of The Devil and Daniel Johnston, from Netflix. It was disturbing to me, due to yet another reference to a boy who was academically brilliant and ahead of the class, but disruptive and defiant. My 8-year-old son's most recent school conference was all about that. I came right out and told his teacher and his advanced-math teacher, who met with me together, that I sometimes wonder if he as Asperger's syndrome. They looked at each other and told me they'd both suggested that possibility to each other, recently, themselves!
Well I got to go take a hot bath.
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