![]() One of the loves of my life is skiing. Cross country skiing, downhill skiing, water skiing - all share the same exhilaration and joy. Sledding can be included. Since moving to Ohio in 1985, my participation in this sport was drastically reduced until this year. The year of Covid. The year of taking a giant winter rest due to some inefficiencies of my heat. The year I got the skiis out and was able to ski in the meadow for 20 consecutive days. ,You may be asking if I needed rest, what was I doing skiing? I have always found skiing easier than walking in snow, the same way that I loved running much more than walking. Faster, easier, and way more efficient. When the snow came this year, the act of lifting one leg up out of the snow, then the other, in my daily walks with Kala, left me breathless and exhausted. So on Feb 5, I went to the shed and got out the skis.
I love the way my body feels skiing, the long strides are smooth and expansive like running. Add the arms reaching forward and the cold on my face, it's gliding with nature. Growing up, we all had cross country skis that needed to be prepared with either applying melted wax with an iron or black tar or both. We did this hot messy process at the McFaddens. They lived on a lake and while the tar was drying we would go down to the frozen lake and skate in the dark. There was always a giant tin of instant hot chocolate ready and waiting. In Michigan, I skied at Sweezy's pond right in our neighborhood. I would go walk to the pond and ski the perimeter in the dusk after school. When I lived out west I had to drive to ski, and it was a whole different experience skiing in the mountains. I still used my cross country skis but added telemarking boots and climbing skins to be able to walk up the snow. In Ohio, my limited skiing took place in the South Glen with my doggie Bojangles. My first set of skis, white with blue markings, needed daily or hourly wax application depending on the snow condition. I had my own set of waxes I would take with me, a different color for each type of snow. I loved the quiet of wax-able skis. Quiet skiing in the woods or mountains. Just the shuu, shuu, shuu through the woods. Now I use wax-less skis and while there is no mess, I have to stop frequently to really hear. There is a point at dusk when there is a sudden shift in the light. It is very dramatic. It's like all at once the light is no longer a quality that allows seeing, the light becomes a feeling. You can still see, but the way you move through the light is even more silent. It might be the point where all the birds stop singing, or some animals stop foraging. The wind dies down. The way that hush descends, absorbing me into the world on the other side of light is something I experienced as a child in the snow at dusk, and skiing at Sweezy's Pond. The other evening I left late for my walk/ski time with Kala in the meadow. When the hush descended around 6:30pm, it was like walking through a door. Shuu, shuu, shuu, shuu the skis sliding along. Vision shifts into purples and grays, immersed into twilight and totally awake.
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