Winter sports

  I am sitting here alone with my second cup of coffee.  Its a rare weekend treat.  My husband and son are off on a father son excursion, a Boy Scout ski trip to a nearby state.  They called once they had arrived.  Driving up on the treacherous roads, they said they had joked about how mom would be freaking out.  They were probably right.  Driving on snow and ice is not something they teach in coastal Southern Virginia where I was raised. My husband is used to driving in winter.  He was raised in Massachusetts.  Sometimes he skids on the ice just to scare me.  He thinks its funny.  Men are such boys.  Admittedly, its something we love about them.
  Our youngest chose to take lessons in snowboarding in lieu of skiing.  I guess he wants to be like his big brother.  He's been an avid snowboarder for years.  I, myself, have never been skiing.  I could probably count the snow days we had as a kid on one hand.  Though we suffered through the biting chill of winter, and prayed for days off from school, we were wasting our time.  There was no need to even own a snow shovel.  There were ski resorts within a few hours drive, but we didn't take advantage of them.  Our family trips, our vacations were always in the summer.  And besides, we really didn't participate in sports.  I remember playing catch and kickball in front of the little blue house, swimming and hiking during the summer.  I was probably the most active in the family, only because I roller skated.          
   When I was stationed in Germany, as a young woman of nineteen and twenty, my friends would go away on weekend ski trips.  I chose instead to take more touristy trips.  To be honest, I was a bit embarrassed to be seen on the learner slopes.  In hindsight, I wish I had gone along and tried.  I wish I had been braver.
   I did try ice skating a couple of years ago.  It was with my kids at a nearby rink.  I found that it was a lot like roller skating.  As a kid, I had quietly fantasized about someday being in roller derby.  But that would never come to pass.  I was fast, but not nearly mean enough for the derby.  After only one time on the ice, I found that I enjoyed ice skating.  Unfortunately, last year's heavy snows caused the roof at the only rink to cave in.  I hope they will rebuild.  I may be the oldest one there, but I would go back.
   Last year, I went sledding for the first time ever.  I was frightened, but my husband said not to worry.  He would take me down.  As I looked over the steep hill, behind a local elementary school, I felt a rush of adrenaline I had not felt in years.  The cold air bit at my uncovered face.  But I knew my husband had literally grown up sledding.  In my mind, it was going to be like tandem parachuting.  I was going down with a skilled sledder.  The kids went down first and fast.  Small and light, they flew down the hill.  We would follow.  I just knew, with our combined weight, it would be slower.  My heart raced with excitement.  It was like I was twelve years old again, doing something I should of done as a kid, something all kids should do.
   But half way down the hill, my husband caught his boot on a patch of ice and we rolled.  He rolled over on top of me and dragged me over the frozen snow.  The end seemed never to arrive.  When it did, I could not move.  For a moment, I was pinned beneath my husband.  I felt the ice on my face.  It numbed the pain.  Finally, my husband rolled off of me.  He had injured his leg when he had caught his foot.  Slowly, we climbed back up to the top of the hill.  He reached back to hold my hand.  I always need assistance climbing hills because of my back and knee issues.  Soon, I realized I was bleeding.  And I wasn't the only one.  A young friend of our son's had gone down the hill without his gloves.  He'd scraped his hands pretty bad.  It looked painful.  I asked if he wanted to head home.  He said no.  He was fine.  That's youth for you.  Kids are invincible.  He went down the hill again.  After checking on us and our injuries, our son followed quickly behind catching air.  He hesitated only because he was worried about my face.  I had not yet seen the damage.  Battered and bruised, my husband and I both began to feel the pain once we warmed up.  So, we sat it out while the kids continued to enjoy how fast they could go on ice.  Eventually, we went home.  I looked in the mirror and groaned.  In time, my face healed.  The snow and ice melted.
    Would I go back and do it again?  Yes, if only for a rush of adrenaline I felt looking down that hill.  Its good exercise and next time, as the scouts say, I'll "be prepared".  Look at that.  I let my coffee get cold.  Such is life.