Somehow I scored a couple of hours to myself- these days those are harder to come by than (fill in the blank with your own inappropriate comment). After starting the laundry, contemplating washing the two-day-old gel out of my hair and deciding against it, reading a random magazine I found in the trash, and staring at the wall wondering what I did during my free time before a child and a husband, I figured I should update you all on life in Minnesota. Well, to state the obvious, it is freezing here. Where, oh where does all of this g-darn snow come from? And, is it really possibly to live when it is one degree outside? My initial response is of course not, you must be flipping nuts, but then I look outside, realize it is one degree out there, and check my pulse. Still alive, so it must work out somehow.
Enough about the cold, you say? What does this have to do with your B.L.L., you ask? Well, let me make the connection explicit for you. What element of the B.L.L. could I possibly work on while stuck in a snowy winter wonderhellland? Oh, that’s right, snowboarding! On Monday, Scott’s mom was kind enough to watch Logan overnight for us. (Hello, that is about the only possible reason I’ve discovered for living in Minnesota: having someone to occasionally watch Logan overnight.) I was so sick, probably feverish, and hacking up a lung, but somehow decided that snowboarding was in order. Scott and I suited up, drug the gear out to Buck Hill, and hit the slopes (if they count as that).
I should point out that before we hit the slopes, I was dancing around claiming I was going to OWN this mountain-mainly because it wasn’t a mountain! Buck Hill is aptly named, seeing as how it hardly actually qualifies as a hill. Really, it’s a little lump in the otherwise flat, frozen landscape of the Minneapolis suburbs. Logan and I routinely walk up bigger hills on our way to the grocery store.
I KNOW, THIS PICTURE BLOWS, BUT IT GIVES YOU AN IDEA OF THE SCALE OF BUCK HILL
As it turns out, all of my bravado just led to a harder fall. Have I mentioned my trouble with lifts yet? I tend to fall off of them. Last year I even tried to ride one back down the mountain instead of getting off of it. They sort of terrify me, so I was thrilled when I saw a magic carpet (escalator) up the tiniest of slopes. I thought, “Yes! I won’t have to fall right away!” Oh my goodness, was I ever wrong. At Mt. High we rode the magic carpet holding our boards. Here, they made you strap one foot in first. I strapped in, skated onto the magic carpet, and KABAM! Down I went. The attendant ran on, and tried to help me up. After attempting to stand, sliding on the snowy carpet, and giving up, I asked if I could please just remain on the ground seeing as how I was obviously just going to fall off when we got to the top. He refused, and helped me stand. Let me just say, I HATE that magic carpet. I almost fell half a dozen more times, did fall off of it, and swore I would never ride it again.
After regaining a little dignity, I tried to strap my other foot into my binding but was so stiff from my cold that Scott had to help me. If you need one, not being able to strap into your own board is a good reason to not snowboard while sick. On the flip side, my feverish body loved being in the snow. I stood up, and started slipping down the hill. MINNESOTA SNOW IS FAST! The slope wasn’t very steep, but it was super slick, and I couldn’t get on either my toe or heel edge, I just slipped my way down. After a few minutes of this, I sat down to cry. Like a baby whining for their mother, I bawled, “I need my sister! She is my courage.” Scott wasn’t pleased that he wasn’t my courage, and offered to be my drill instructor instead. I am so used to Jen barking orders at me, demanding that I get off my butt and “stop being a wiener” that Scott’s attempts at being a drill instructor actually worked. I survived the baby hill and was ready to try the lift.
As usual, I fell off the lift, and had to scoot out of the way, but hey-after that embarrassment, I made it down the hill without falling! For round two, Scott stayed close to me, enjoying the opportunity to count my falls. I was attempting to finally get on my heel side and conquer the S-turns that have plagued me since last year. Each time I got close, I fell flat on my back, and Scott shouted out the next number as I laughed hysterically. About halfway down the hill each time, I gave up on turns and just enjoyed the fast ride. The snow is so different here, I was speeding down the hill, and it was so much fun!
Scott was complaining of frostbite, so we headed inside to have my board adjusted and take a hot-cocoa break. The guy in the rental shop was kind enough to change my bindings from goofy to regular. Ok, I tried, got confused, Scott asked for help, and then he came and fixed the disaster I was starting. However it happened, my board was adjusted. I’d been suspecting that I might not be goofy-footed after watching how other boarders held their weight. Although it was awkward at first, and felt backwards, the next run was so much easier I even accidently ended up on my heel side several times without landing on my back. And, miracle of all miracles, I stopped falling right off the lift! The snow was so fast, I wasn’t falling at all, and I wanted to ride all night. It was, however, 8:30 and twenty degrees out. Scott was cold, and had been a trooper waiting for me on the slopes. He literally skied circles around me a few times, and, when he wasn’t joyously mocking my falls, he was cheering me on, so I figured I should listen to his concerns about losing his toes and nose.
I left a little closer to my goal of jumping. Although I am feeling more confident on my board, I also left vowing that I was going to take a lesson while we are here. Now, if it would only get a little warmer, I might actually be able to follow through with that vow. I can’t wait to get home and take the boards out with my sister. Oh, and FYI, I love my new boots but am still experiencing a little bit of heel lift. Watch out Tim at Sports Chalet, I’ll be back.
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