Gifts

Cross country skiing is something I’ve wanted to take up for years. In high school I was fortunate to go to a school that offered cross country skiing as a gym class option.

When we initially stepped into our skis I remember thinking, this is gym? But I swallowed my words quickly as we climbed the slow rising hills and made our way through the fields. Cross country skiing is a full body workout.

The business of school dropped away as we concentrated on the skis keeping us steady and moving us forward instead of over and onto the ground. Eventually I grew confident in my skiing and could spend those gym classes noticing the brush popping through the snow, the trees along the middle of the field offering a soft arch of protection from the wind, and the escape the outdoors offered me.

We usually didn’t have much time to shower because we used ten minutes, at least, to get our skis, then return our skis, and make our way back to school. So I imagine for the rest of the day I didn’t smell like roses and daisies but along with an enhanced aroma I also gained a newfound hobby…that I never pursued beyond high school.

Fast forward 20 some years and I finally have an hour or two sometimes when I don’t have children to tend to and the errands and cleaning and cooking can wait. I add “cross country” skiing to my 40 for 40 list and I borrow skis.

The first time out the wind is brutal so I last five minutes. The second time out I regret dressing warmly five minutes into it and unzip as I cascade down a hill.

Other cross country skiers have the right gear. They look amazing, cut, and layer appropriately. But I have a smile that breaks through my sweat lined face.

I feel 18 again. I was clumsy then and clumsy now but just as before, I am surprised at how this activity moves me.

This year I invested in my own skis, boots, and poles. I used them for the first time last weekend.

I overdressed and wished I hadn’t five minutes in. I nearly fell over twice, but by the second lap around the field I was settling into that rhythm of memory that takes over the legs, stomach, and arms.

The body remembers.

I am grateful I learned so many things when I was younger, more able, but possibly less eager to learn. Because now, with my eagerness in place, my body settles in to what it remembers. Down hill skiing, cross country skiing, spinning on an ice rink. It’s all there within me.

I pass by a child who has collapsed on the ground in a perfect tantrum formation and I hide a laugh.

I see you. I probably was you. Someday you will thank who ever brought you here and is willing to teach you.

Tomorrow I will take my own children to the field or the ice rink or the downhill ski slope and shout behind me as I lead them, “you’re welcome!!!”

The body will remember.