the wimp in me

We went cross-country 'Nordic' skiing over the weekend. I rented my gear. This was a huge mistake. The bonus was that it was super inexpensive compared to downhill ski rentals (think a quarter of the price), the gear is much lighter (think a quarter of the weight), and the groomed trails out at Hyak in Snoqualmie were fantastic! We saw maybe two people an hour, which meant we basically had the beautiful, falling snow and untouched snowy forested mountain to ourselves. Pristine! Plus, it wasn't too cold and it was actively snowing all day. Wonderful.

The down side? Oh, the down side.

My rentals were rentals. The boots were so excruciatingly uncomfortable that I literally have bruised ankles (yes, both), and blisters the size of quarters, wait nickels, on both heels. I really tried not to complain too much, because my wonderful cross-country ski companion was being so supportive and trying to show me a good time, and I really love the snow.

But then I waited too long to have a snack. I'm thinking about 2 hours too long. So then I was a bit grumpy, and being hungry and grumpy meant I was no longer really trying to be tough and just get into it and go for it. That's when I met the wimp in me.

Don't get the wrong impression: I've met the wimp in me before. But I really don't like her. She whines and sometimes she cries, and it's not pretty. I was pretty gung-ho about being tough and having fun no matter the situation with my ankles and heels... and then I wasn't anymore. Gung-ho me got punched in the stomach by the wimp in me, and the wimp in me won.

So, after many adjustments to my socks (I'd wear two pair next time), and a few stops to write "Love" in the snow, we had a snack under a tree just as the ski patrol were heading down off the mountain. We had some apples and tasty Beechers raw cheese (yummmm), some crackers and trail mix. I felt a little better, and actually cracked a couple of jokes as we packed the food away. My sweet ski companion laughed (luckily) and commented on how ridiculous it is that I can't tell yet when I've passed hungry and headed straight into crazy-hungry land. I'm working on it, but sometimes it's hard to tell until it's too late. I giggled and whizzed by (there was a slope) excited to head home for a meal and a hot bath.

And as we headed down the mountain, the wimp in me whined, "Are we there yet?"