"you're pretty athletic"

was the complimentary feedback i received halfway down sugarloaf mountain from "mr double black diamond". clearly he hasn't noticed the frequent withdrawals from our checking account that go to active.com on a fairly regular basis. nevertheless, he had been on at me for the last couple of years to give downhill skiing a go so that we could have "something to do together", why he just cant be happy that we both enjoy a bit of bravo tv from the same couch i do not know.

ski resorts; clearly i have been missing out on a whole new realm of people watching. north face aside, many seem to view it as an opportunity to showcase their collection of voluminous snowflake sweaters. i took it as one to test the commitment of my relationship.

starting with the ski boots. not only do those things bloody hurt, but they make it virtually impossible to maneuver 25 metres from the rental place to the 'staging area'. this doesn't even factor in balancing two extremely cumbersome and overpriced pieces of wood on one clavicle, while trying not to poke someone else in the crotch with a pole. 2,400 centimetres later and it's time to rearrange everything in order to get on the bloody chairlift, which was "fun" (sort of like an amusement park), until we stopped, mid-mountain, due to wind gusts, and just hung there helplessly swinging in the swirl.

and the hills were indeed alive with assorted expletives.

fortunately ours made it to the summit (and i was able to disembark with all equipment intact), to a snowstorm; all the better to propel us down a mountain that no one could actually see. so...if a couple can survive a cross country road trip (we did-- twice), then they need to try skiing from high altitude together. after a brief tantrum, i determined that passive-aggressive would be the best strategy to facilitate a sooner apres-ski, and guarantee that i would never be asked to go again.

and so i made full use of the many, many faceplants, lying like a dead starfish, waiting to be plucked, along with far flung skis and poles, from the snow and pine trees. "i hate skiing/winter/this/why did you bring me here/i cant do this/it's too steep/i'm never doing it again/this is your thing, not mine/stop trying to force me to do your stuff/this isn't fun".

neither my behaviour or technique were pretty, let alone gracious and graceful. and had there been video footage, rather like people who choose to record their boudoir moments, i don't know that i would ever pick up a set of poles again.

it took us 45 minutes to get down the mountain when it should have taken eight. it felt like two hours.

but i did make the "noise".