Willpower

Earlier in January we had a day that was sunny and above freezing- gorgeous January weather. I took the boys up to Como park for a lovely ski. I do far prefer to ski in the woods, but Como's figure 8's and plentiful horseshoes in their trails makes it an optimal destination when skiing with slower skiers and still hoping for a workout. Anytime we came to a big U-bend in the trail, the boys would cut across and I would ski around and (eventually) catch up. I think the next time we try this I may never catch back up.

Anyway- we had a delightful ski in perfect conditions. The boys were getting very confident on the hills- even old Eli eased up on the granny approach he had been utilizing lately. Then we got to the last hill of the day. It is quite steep- from the top you can't see part of it below the lip- but straight with a long gentle finish. Eli went first, wobbled, but made it. Theo followed. 3/4's of the way down, one leg got away from him and he bit it. He laid facedown for awhile, then untangled limbs from skies and started off again- only back up the hill! He was determined to make it down. After try 5, I took him aside and pointed out that every time he puffed back up to the top he was getting more tired, which was making his end goal even more elusive. That, and Eli and I both had to pee. He would not hear of quitting- tears were gathering in the corners of his eyes, but not spilling over. He turned away from me and trudged back up. At one point a man went down while we were waiting for Theo. When he wiped out at my feet I recognized him as my next door neighbor. I told him that we were going to be there until Theo mastered the hill, and if our car wasn't back out front by nightfall, could he please alert Jon as to where we where?

Try 7 was the lucky one- Theo made it to the down to the flats. He gave me a brief triumphant glare, then skied off. But after a few strides he dropped one pole behind him, then the other, then tipped right over, face first, on to the ground. He lay there for several minutes- I think in a trance of pure relief. Eli and I shared his relief, but we left him there on the ground as we hightailed it to the biffies. Theo eventually collected himself and followed. The whole sitation left me in awe of Theo's willpower. And a bit worried for our future....

Here's a shot of Theo doggedly heading back to the top. Eli -in orange- is pleading with me to make him stop.

Lame

Our household is currently fairly lame. You see, two weeks ago, my spouse went in for some surgical repair for what is known as a sports hernia. I always thought that he might be too fit, and here's the proof. He would argue with that and bombard you with stats - but don't let him. And lighten up on those situps and crunches today so the same fate does not befall you. Anyway- he's slowly recovering but has his restrictions- including not lifting anything over 10 lbs. One week into his recovery I took the neighbor's dog for a walk- on a snowy icy day. Fell on my bum- but broke my fall with my left hand. Turns out that I really broke it- not the fall, but my wrist. So now I have my own restrictions. These have intersected with Jon's in amusing ways, but luckily our boys have stepped it up and are proving to be much more capable and independent than we originally thought. Kind of makes me wish I had slipped on the ice a few years ago.

Minnesota mindset

Today I was once again out skiing at Theodore Wirth while my boys were undertaking their ski lessons. I came around a corner on the back nine and saw in front of me a man walking on the ski trail carrying his skies and poles. In front of him were three others, two on skies, and one more carrying all his equipment. The next time I glanced up at this small group, three of them were twisted in a pile on the ground- two of them who had only been carrying their skies. They were all laughing uproariously. As I got closer they were able to untangle themselves and as a group they managed to help the two with skies on get back on their feet. But they could not stay on their feet for more than a few seconds, their ankles buckling on them and their legs windmilling apart. They continued laughing. I noticed that they looked like perhaps they hailed originally from other parts of the world. Warmer parts. They were wrapped from head to two in many many layers of outdoor clothing despite the very mild temperatures. The whole scene reminded me of our old Peruvian houseguests comment the first time we brought her out on skies: 'I think that a Peruvian on skies is like a Minnesotan salsa dancing!' It made me wonder what came naturally to these men who were so humorously trying out this sport that seemed so alien to them. Just then the oldest ski school group buzzed by. In the 34 degree weather these native Minnesotan kids were stripped down to just long underwear tops and light pants- sweating in the 'heat wave' as they glided by me and the struggling men. We all stopped what we were doing- the men even somehow managed to take a pause in their flailing- to watch in awe as these lovely lithe young bodies glided by- making the sport of skate skiing look naturally graceful and fluid. Then the group was gone and the men went right back to flailing and laughing and I pushed off, leaving the men behind.

I was telling my boys this story at dinner tonight and Jon mentioned that skiing is not a natural movement to everyone, that the boys, even as they struggle to become ever more graceful on skies, should be proud of how good they have gotten. Then I told them of a man Jon and I had taken skiing years ago. This young man was wonderfully athletic and indeed had spent the majority of his life in Minnesota. He was familiar with the snow sports of downhill skiing and had recently taken up snowboarding. But Jon and I took him out into the backwoods of northern Minnesota on cross country skies. This man did not get it. He gamely put his skies on and then proceeded to jog the entire loop next to us- keeping up to us because he was quite fit- but he didn't even once experience a bit of glide. I argued that I thought that he had actually caught a glide on most downhills, but Jon remembers him running right down the hills- completely picking up his skies and just taking a run through the woods with crazy 7 foot long skinny pieces of wood strapped to his feet. The boys thought this was hilarious, and then they nearly died laughing when they found out that the ski jogger we were talking about was none other than their dear Uncle Tim. He is a natural athlete, but apparently not a natural cross country skier. I can't vouch for his salsa dancing.

Judy and Hap Lutter ski loops!

I was out at Theodore Wirth park today with 200 youth club skiers. That is quite a site. 200 young ones all with skies and sharp pointy poles. After I helped equip Eli, Theo, Espen, Siri, Torben, and Berit, I escaped the madness and headed out for a ski with my very own self. It was fabulous. I went up the hill behind the chalet and got a little turned around but ended up skiing all that is available in the Back 9, including the lovely Judy and Hap Lutter loops. The snow seems fresh and soft and the classic tracks are deep and smooth. It was a delight to spend and hour out in the woods thinking of my uncle Hap and what a special guy he was. I thought of Judy too, and how if she had been out there today she would have been kicking my butt. I am slow this season after living in a cave the entire break, trying to get over a dumb cold. But I'm back- and was delighted to be out in the sun today. I recommend making the trek over to Theo Wirth sometime soon. That is some fabulous city skiing- the trails are endless and currently in great condition. Plus some of them are named after my peeps.

The curious behavior of our backyard bunnies

In the winter our backyard is always crisscrossed by rabbit tracks. Once it snows it becomes clear that there is a lot of rabbit activity in the area- the tracks are everywhere. This year, before the big Christmas eve snow/ice event, the boys and Jon had created a large snow igloo like structure in the backyard. Then we had the snow/ice thing and apparently the ice wasn't so thick and hard that a bunny couldn't leave tracks. The yard was once again covered, including one intrepid track going right up and over this really rather tall and steep igloo thing. The whole yard is completely covered, except for this mound in the middle that the boys had created. That had beautiful shiny clean ice/snow everywhere except the lone track going up then back down the very apex (is that the right word? The summit?). It kind of looked like there had been a bunny convention out there and they hopped all over, daring each other to take on the hill. Then one brave bunny took the challenge, but no one else followed. And then a few days later another small snow wiped all the tracks out. The yard was fresh when we went to bed- no tracks. In the morning, covered- including once again, the lone track up and over the high point of the igloo. As the days go on, the yard becomes even more traversed, but the igloo remains with only the one clean track. This has now happened three times. Each time I see that one fresh track going up and over it gives me a smile to think of the rabbits out there daring each other. It's supposed to snow again tonight. I wonder if any of them are going to take the dare. I hope so.

Mr. Whipple

At work today I got an application for a student with the last name of Whipple. I mentioned to a student who was in my office at the time that this student was from her old school. She asked who it was and I told her, adding, "Did he get teased all the time for his name? Was he always asked if he squeezed the Charmin?" She looked at me in complete confusion. So I asked a nearby teacher's assistant if he remembered the Mr. Whipple commercials. More blank looks. I then asked a teacher, albeit a young one. No recognition. Dang. Feeling old. Those commercials seem like they were on just yesterday.

Getting out in it

So on Christmas Eve I was estatic at the thought of the incoming snow storm and how it coincided with time off of work. The prospect of skiing often in fresh snow (possibly two feet of it they were predicting) had me peeking out the window and sighing as the big flakes fell from the sky. But then the snow turned to rain, then the rain froze and coated everything with ice. yuck. By the day after Christmas our back yard was rock hard and skiing seemed like it might be done for awhile. The reports on skinnyski showed that some people were still getting out and trying to be positive. Then we got the dumb cold- not just cold temps outside- those did come too, but I'm talking about the coughing, wheezing, snotting, sore throat type of cold. We spent the week after Christmas in the cave of our house, rarely getting out for more than to grab the paper from the step. It seemed cold and icy and unfriendly out there. This lasted into the new year. Sunday the third dawned sunny, but frigid and I had a horrible attitude about bringing the kids over for their x-c ski lessons at Theodore Wirth park. Jon, uncharacteristically, shared this view. But we felt obligated, and so brought them, and brought our own skies as well. Packed them right into our car along with our pessimism. We got to the park, bundled our kids off to their respective lessons and remarked to ourselves how astonished we were that they didn't complain about the cold at all. And then we stood there outside in the bright sunshine and noted, yes, it was cold, but it wasn't awful cold. And so we skied. On the lovely Judy and Hap trails, named after my very own peeps. And loved it. Even started to think kindly toward Minnesota again. Sure, there never was two feet of snow- it did turn to rain, and then ice- but the trails were fine. Even good. It proved to me once again that a Minnesota winter looks much worse from inside, peering out the frost encrusted windows, than it does from when you are right out in it. Of course it's Wednesday night and I haven't gotten back out there, but I will. And I will love it.

You apparently don't really know me then.....

Tonight before bed Theo said, "I am sooooo excited for tomorrow." I asked what was going on tomorrow. He looked at me with a hint of frustration. "Really," I asked again, "what's going on tomorrow?" I was quickly scanning my brain to see what I had forgotten about Thursday... He gave me a look tinged with sorrow and said, "Well, apparently you don't really know me then." And then a pout. Man, talk about heartbreak. He knows how to do it. Desperately I took a stab in the dark, "Recess?" I saw genuine relief cross his face, his mom maybe did know him after all, maybe just a little. But then he threw down the guantlet: "Yes. But which one? First or second recess??" You do have to love a teacher who gives second graders two recesses, by the way. These teachers dedicated to recess are few and far between in this age of test early, test often. But because of his teacher's liberal recess policies I was stuck here without an answer with my reputation as a caring, understanding mother hanging in the balance. Confidently I answered, "Second," although I had no idea why one recess would be better than the other. The frown returned. Second was clearly the wrong answer and he was back to thinking that after all these years, all this time, he was living with a stranger who did not understand him at all. "Wait, first! First recess!" "No Mom. Both recesses." And then the cheshire grin. He had been fooling all along, trying to trap me. Playing with my heart. Dangerous game, little man, dangerous game.