Being Adventurous

Athleticism is not a natural part of my biological makeup. Any horoscope would have you believe otherwise because whenever I read character traits of an Aries I'm told I should be athletic and energetic.

Energetic? Yes. Athletic? No.

I hated physical education when I was a kid. The only thing I was good at on the presidential fitness test was sit ups. I could do mad sit ups. More than anyone else in a minute. Don't ask me to explain that. I can't.

If you've been around here a while you know that I run. Running is my sport of choice. I started running because I needed a way to stay fit that didn't require me to fork over cash each month for a gym membership. I can run outside and all I have to pay for is the equipment, i.e. tennis shoes and clothing. I also chose running because in the event that someone got hurt it would be me and I wouldn't be responsible for accidentally sending someone to the hospital for stitches. Big bonus points for running. It also turned out that I kind of enjoy it - meaning that I don't want to fall over and die after every work out. Who'd have thunk?

But I'm getting off topic. We're talking about my nonexistent athleticism.

Andy is quite the athlete and picks up new sports with ease. He is the all around outdoor guy and sportsman.

I'm just going to come right out and tell you that we don't have much in common and never have. But in the interest of keeping the spark alive we try to do things together. Even if that means stepping out of our box.

That is how I found myself strapped into a set of cross country skis last week. Neither of us had been before and Andy said he wanted to go. I said why not. Andy did have a slight advantage since he skis religiously and I have never been. But it wasn't the same kind of skiing.

So last Tuesday, when the high was fourteen degrees, we went cross country skiing.

Guess what?

I actually liked it.

No really, it was fun.

I would totally go again.

However, we learned an important lesson that day. Fresh fallen snow is imperative to having an enjoyable time while cross country skiing. The first part of our adventure we had a good inch of fresh snow. As the trip wore on we got into the snow that had melted and then frozen back over into ice. And then I fell down four times and I was ready to go home.

That's just what we did, because after ten years Andy knows when it's time to call it quits. About the time that I start to whine. Don't push me past the whining because I start to get hysterical and completely irrational. Andy is a smart man, or an observant one. Whichever.

We did manage to get a few photos (and a video) before calling it a day. Enjoy.

Just starting out

Half way up the hill

At least the sun was out

Attempting to make it across the field of ice

I fell shortly after this

 Cold, tired and ready to go home

Here is the video of the first time I fell. I realize that you aren't supposed to use the poles to propel yourself. The reason I was doing it that way is because we had hit some ice and were going uphill and I was having better luck pulling myself up the hill with the poles rather than trying to move my feet. Before Andy started filming I had gotten pretty far with this technique. I just happened to hit a dip in the icy snow while he had the camera on. At least I laughed. I'm pretty sure every time I fell after this was much less graceful and I may have used an expletive or two because I kept hurting myself.

Next on the wintersports agenda: ice skating.