The Things We Do for Love

Ski season is in full swing here in upstate New York. There is cross-country everywhere, including the Cornell Golf Course. For downhill and snowboarding, we go to a little resort called “Greek Peak” only 18 miles away. You can get there in 20 minutes, and the A-Frame Lodge serves wine! Even so, I was completely terrified of chaperoning the elementary school ski club for the first time because of the near freezing temperatures.



Truth is, I have never been sure about the sport. I started out with a father who “taught” me how to ski. No fancy lessons needed! He would just take us to the top of the mountain and holler, “Follow me!” as he whizzed his way down the slopes. It wouldn’t have been that bad except, in order to save money, he would buy me a child’s lift ticket, long after I had turned 12 years old. I was 5’ 9” by 5th grade, so that was tricky to pull off, even for a poker face like me. I only kept at it because my dad loved to ski so much.

Then I remember begging my mom to let me go with the school ski club in junior high school even though I wasn’t crazy about snow. But I was crazy about a certain 8th grader who was going on the trip and that meant I could sit by him for 2 ½ hours each way on the bus. I didn’t care what I had to do in the between time. That day had arguably the worst weather conditions imaginable but I skied, with frozen solid fingers and toes, hoping to impress a boy who only cared about looking at my Spanish tests.



It’s funny what we will endure. I skied with my husband and his friends for years just to prove I could. I really wanted to show them what a value-seeker I was, too, so I would hit the lifts when they opened and ski until the very last run of the day. I would be exhausted and in pain, but if asked to do "just one more," would nod my helmet head, and go.

After I married and had my babies, I took a break. I decided catching up on sleep was more important than trying to keep up with a bunch of guys whose bodies somehow didn't seem to register "cold" or "tired". Until one day, two years ago, toward the end of our vacation, I was alone in the rental house and it was absolutely gorgeous outside and all I could think about was my family having fun, without me, and I couldn’t take it. I threw down my book, drove over to the ski shop, bought myself some ski pants, rented equipment and in less than an hour was swishing down the snowy hills with my favorite boys.



If you can’t beat ‘em…




Join ‘em!