Even My Psyche is Sore

by Shari on April 8, 2012

Here it is, Resurrection Day, and I couldn't even Rise from the bed.

I'm so sore. My hamstrings are sore, my back is sore, my neck is sore, my lungs are sore. That little "C" of skin between my index finger and thumb is sore. The curve of my bellybutton is sore. My eyestalks are sore. My nosehairs are sore.

After a strong evangelical effort failed to convert our children to the Church of Skientology, the husband turned his crazy eyes on me.

"Can't wait to ski with my honey! We'll have a skiing date! We'll start out on the Snubber, and then we'll take the SuperQuad up to Tote Road and ski all the way down together! I'M SO PUMPED, BABY!"


This is what I have to deal with, people.

In case you're wondering who filmed that little Vacationland promo, it was him. While he was skiing. (Be grateful for the goggles, because they're the only barrier between you and the crazy eyes.)

So there I was, out on the Snubber (don't ask) with my MIL's ski outfit from 1986.

Yayaski

Yes, I am gnawing on my knuckles. And not because I'm afraid someone's going to make a pass at me because I'm so hot. It's because I'm a terrified skier.

I've skied many times. Many terrified times. I keep skiing because I'm so certain that one time I will ski unterrified, but it hasn't happened yet. I'm like a junkie who keeps using based solely on the recommendations of other crackheads.

Many have tried to tinker with my technique, but I find that the "keep upright by sheer muscle lockage" works just fine for me, thank you very much. Yes, it's quite possible that complete and utter tissue rigidity for prolonged periods of time in frigid temperatures may have something to do with the next-day soreness, but I'll take that over broken bones anytime.

Here is an example of my inner monologue while skiing:

"GodGodGodGod–I'm MOVING!! NONONONONONO lockyourkneesWait Hesaiddon'tlockyourkneesButImustlockmyknees SNOWPLOW!SNOWPLOW! SNOWPLOW!FORTHELOVEOFJESUSSNOWPLOW! Edge! Wedge! Pizzaslice! Don'tthinkaboutLiamNeesonsWifeDon'tthinkaboutLiamNeesonsWifeDon'tthink aboutSonnyBonoDon'tthinkaboutSonnyBonoDon'tthingaboutthatguyonWideWorld ofSportsTheAgonyofDefeatSNOWPLOW! SNOWPLOW!It'sEasterTomorrow BeMercifulJesusSNOWPLOWWWWWWWWWWW!!

This, while 3-year olds whiz past me and old women so gnarled they look like they morphed out of the tree trunks call out to their ancient husbands, "I'll meetcha on the moguls, Morrie!"

And yet, I persevere. Yes, for my beloved husband who would probably burst into happy tears if I ever made it past the beginner's slope, but also for me. Because it's hard and I can't do it and it baffles me. And if you know me, you know how I love hard and baffling and impossible. That's the best stuff of life.

Of course, the best stuff of life would be a whole lot better in a ski outfit from this century. Drop a hint to Crazy Eyes.

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{ 13 comments… read them below or add one }

Michelle MacEnroe April 9, 2012 at 8:31 am

Take heart, I just signed up to learn how to run a 15K that happens in July! Got new shoes the other day and warned the sales guy that my ankles weren’t strong, and if they had running shoes with the support of downhill ski boots, I’d be all set! (Big surprise – nice shoes, yes, but no luck in the ankle support department.)
This post was so close to how I ski, I cried & laughed at the same time.

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dusty earth mother April 9, 2012 at 9:17 am

Oh, I like the idea of running shoes with the support of ski boots, Michelle. Perhaps we should patent this and celebrate by going skiing/screaming together.

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Nancy Davis Kho April 9, 2012 at 9:46 am

Next time I see you, remind me to tell you about the time 23 year old me told a cute German snowboarder, “SURE I know how to snowboard” even though I’d only ever been on cross country skis.
Did. Not. End. Well.
I applaud your muscle lockage.

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dusty earth mother April 9, 2012 at 10:26 am

So funny. When I was 21 and traveling through Europe, a cute Swiss boy asked if I wanted to ski in the Alps. I had never seen a ski at that point, much less been on one. REALLY.Did.Not.End.Well.

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camille diamond April 9, 2012 at 10:53 am

When I was 16 I thought I could ski because I was a dancer. You know that thing about pride goething before a fall? yikes.

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dusty earth mother April 9, 2012 at 2:40 pm

Pride goething before a fall. Love that.

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Alexandra April 10, 2012 at 6:19 am

If wearing a ski outfit that looks like Joseph’s Coat of Many Colors isn’t love, I don’t know what its.
And you can make that into a song and sell it.
Xo
You are amazing.

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dusty earth mother April 10, 2012 at 7:11 am

Thank you for recognizing my Biblical-level sacrifice, Alexandra.

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Agent99 April 10, 2012 at 12:51 pm

Shari, Shari…the Church of Skientology. love that. I just earned my ski instructor stripes this year….so ski with me and forget about that silly Natasha lady! I’ll have you flying in no time. and then, we’ll skit a spell at the bar.

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dusty earth mother April 10, 2012 at 1:04 pm

Peta! Youre a ski instructor? Baby, I think I love ya. Hook me up!

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ROSE SIMPSON April 11, 2012 at 12:36 am

I CANNOT STOP LAUGHING. YOU WIMP. I LEARNED WHEN I WAS 54. I GUESS YOU DIDN’T READ MY LAST COMMENT IN THE KIDS SKIING THINGY. I HAD TO LEARN CAUSE I JOINED THE NOMADS AND THEY HAD WINE AND CHEESE ON THE HILL. YOU HAD TO SKI TO IT TO DRINK. WELL AFTER I SLID DOWN THE MOUNTAIN ON MY BUTT A DOZEN TIMES. I FINALLY GOT TO THE HILL AND JOYFULLY IMBIBED WITH ALL THOSE DRUNKS. YOUR PROBLEM IS THAT TERRIFIC SKIER (I SHALL NOT NAME HIM) WHO IS A COMPLETE NUT.
LUV YA
MAMA ROSE

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dusty earth mother April 11, 2012 at 10:07 am

Mama Rose called me a wimp. Lordy, I love that woman.

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Lady Jennie April 11, 2012 at 2:23 pm

Just remember that the skis are shorter now than when we were young. Totally different ball game. Totally easy.
Of course I haven’t gone since I was young.

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