Sunday, January 27, 2013


OK, so I promised Dad I'd post again, but this will be short because it's late (because for once I did finish my German homework for tomorrow without needing to do any of it during incubations in lab tomorrow...well, except I need to erase 2 mistakes since I can't find an eraser anywhere in our apartment).

But we have a good reason for having had little time to blog.  In addition to the usual craziness of our somewhat over-committed evenings (I couldn't decide between German, a dance class with Sasha, and a Lacrosse class so I'm taking all 3), it SNOWED this week, so naturally we needed to go skiing.  Normally, it sounds like Marburg gets a handful of dustings of snow, but a skiable amount only falls every few years.  Last weekend, we had a dusting of snow on Saturday, and then a bit more on Sunday, but sadly, it didn't look skiable without what skiers call rock skis (interpretation: skis that you can ski over rocks with and not cry when the bases get scraped up), but then Sunday night, we must have gotten another 5 or 6 inches of snow.  I love snow!

So, after our respective German classes let out on Monday, we raced home, wolfed down a small dinner, and grabbed our skis.  I considered getting out my snow thermometer to see which kick wax to use, then thought, why bother, I'm just going to go with extra blue, anyway.  And I did, so we were out the door in record time, and onto the logging roads near our house, skiing by headlamp.  The benefit of not skiing very often is that I've become a lot less snooty about ski conditions.  There was no grooming and the track that Sasha had skied in earlier in the day had been thoroughly trampled (note to non-skiers out there, those two hip-width parallel smooshed areas in the snow are meant for skiers, if you walk in them, then skiers hit all of your footprints and cannot glide and are very sad).  While back when I was training seriously for skiing those things would have virtually ruined the ski for me, instead all I could think was "I love skiing!!" and "wow, it's white and my skis are gliding, this is amazing!"
See, my skis were gliding! Amazing!

You can see how many footprints there were, even after only one day...strangely enough, we didn't see anyone between 8:30 and 11pm, though.

Anyway, Sasha and I skied for maybe 2 hours on Monday night, and then about the same amount of time on Tuesday.  While there were a few nasty stretches that had been chewed up by logging vehicles, generally, it was so great to be out there skiing.  It's funny how long muscle memory lasts. Even after all those skier muscles that really aren't used on the bicycle atrophied, I can still step into a pair of skis and it feels so natural. Plus, there's something magical about being surrounded by snow covered trees, even more so when they are illuminated by headlamp and you're skiing with your husband. 

Being able to ski to class had been a secret goal of mine all through college (which I managed once, despite the incredible speed at which Harvard Yard Ops clears all the sidewalks and walkways), and I topped that and was able to ski to work twice this week.  Sadly, by Thursday, the snow was just too chewed up by loggers and hikers, and I only have one race pair of classic and one race pair of skate skis here, so didn't want to ruin either pair.  Still, since such snows are fairly rare here, I'll count even 2 days of local skiing as a big blessing.  But I still can't wait until we head to the Alps in late February.

Long-exposure photo of me coming down a hill.  Sasha had some explanation about why you can see my headlight but not the rest of me, but you'll have to ask him.

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