Take all the snow you want, Lynnz!
The Best Damn Skiier On The Mountain
I got a call from Sergey Thursday afternoon, that's my boyfriend, who wanted to take an impromptu ski trip Saturday. I was really reluctant. After all, he's been skiing since he was a kid and adapts very well to sports activities in general, whereas I am naturally UNathletic. I'm not bitter about this, it's just a fact of life. Me + Sports = Uncoordinated Mess. In any case, I agree because this isn't the first time he's asked and he's made it clear that he isn't going unless I go too - yes, I tried the cool girlfriend approach, "You go ahead and go with the guys. You'll have more fun without me!"
So, like a trooper I wake up Saturday morning, 6 A.M., and sleep the 2 hour car ride to the ski lodge. I strap these accident-inviting blades to my feet and looking like a foal trying to stand for the first time, akwardly stilt my way to the smallest hill lift we can find, falling once on the way. The only thing that saved me, I believe, is that I taught myself to ice skate a few winters ago. I don't know if more experienced skiiers feel this way, but shifting your weight on skis feels almost identical to shifting your weight on skates. I had a really good time, making it up to the intermediate slope several times and coming down with some success. One thing is certain, I've never had so much fun falling down!
At one point, Sergey tricked me into coming on a little bit more advanced hill - something about being "impressed by my progress", which he still claims was a genuine compliment but I know better. Well it was too much for me, because I basically tumbled down the whole hill. In fact, it would have been easier if I had just decided to slide down on my butt. My confidence was critically injured at that point, but I limped back over to the intermediate hill and managed to regroup.
I loved it! It was great. I would go skiing again in a second. The only lasting damage is the muscle soreness. I knew I was getting a workout, because I was sweating like pig in all my layers, but I didn't realize until Sunday morning how much torture I had put every muscle in my body through. Neck, arms, butt, legs - CALVES. It's Monday afternoon and I am still tottering around like a grandma. I'd love to go to the gym but I'm not sure I could make it up the stairs to the front door.
My eating habits have been on and off all weekend. It doesn't help that last night was Superbowl Sunday and pizza is mandatory in my household. I should regain momentum as the week progresses.
I haven't done a weigh-in yet. Probably because I wanted to be able to take some more comparison photos and I know that these photos won't show any change. Whatever weight I've lost is minimal. So, I think I'll save the scale for next weekend after my muscles stop protesting and I am able to workout a bit more this week.