The title on this photo is "I beat ski-limia." Over New Year's weekend I cross-country skiied some and, well, I . . . um, . . . urp . . . puked.Twice.
I was practicing my version of the drinking man's diet at the time. My body apparently found strenuous excercise incompatible with this diet.
Well, that was then, baby, and this is now. That's me to the left, skiing Blue Mounds County Park, which is populated with oak trees and from which one can see 80 miles in any direction. Well, not straight down. You can't see 80 miles that way. In this picture, I have already skiied six miles. I may have felt as though I'd been worked over by a street gang the day afterwards, but I did not puke. Didn't even consider puking. They're going to have to find a new nickname for me now.
Here's my friend Doug. He could telemark ski down a vertical wall. Here he is, cutting his own trail. This is something I can't do and remain upright.
Above you will find my friend Carroll, also cutting some new trail. We had about 5 inches of new powder on a sunny afternoon and conditions were just about ideal. This is so much fun that grown men like me will cheerfully ski up long hills, all for the joy of coasting down again.
On the last hill, I was bringing up the rear (my usual spot) and I heard Kris say "Hey Tuna! This is the hill you broke Doug's ski on!" I probably did not need to hear this.
It was a slow downhill curve to the left which straightened out half way down and then dove down, then up, into a hump, and then down again. I started out very slowly and let my snowplowed skis absorb as much momentum as possible. As the curve straightened, I knew it was time to tuck my skis in and shoot the hill. I remember thinking that it would be good to crouch going over the hump. The next thing I remember is going headfirst, ass-over-teakettle, and winding up on my back with my skis and poles up in the air, sliding down the remainder of the hill.
My shoulder was pretty sore the next day and one of my right ribs has been giving me some trouble. I walked around the office like Walter Brennan for a few days after. It's tough being middle aged. Waah.
We celebrated Chris Berg's 50th birthday that day. He's the first of this crowd to turn. I'm next. I'd like to think I could still ski in 10 years. It seems a little more likely now that I can be a little more active.
