I went skiing this morning. It is called Nordic skiing. You put one foot after the next, pushing off from each, lifting your heels. You see, the heel is not attached to the ski, just the toe of the boot.I fell into a huge drift of snow, tangled up sideways like a bent staple. I thrashed about, lost. The snow was powdery and loose; it was wet and each glove a cake of it that melted; red-handed I was, then cold. I remembered a time when I had been diving, completely alone. Live Love Ride. There had been no light at all then; through the goggle was pea-brown. I had thought ‘sink into the kernel of yourself and live.’I righted myself from the white. Though the light did not come much, everywhere was lit off reflector snow, mirror-lit and bouncing.
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Some more impressions from Utah. Park City is quite a cute little town and skiing is ideal for beginners. After learning the basics on a little hill, we took the kids on the mountain today (luckily it is indeed like bike riding or swimming and I felt as if I had only been on skis yesterday and not 15 years ago). Niklas certainly proved to have Bavarian blood as he raced down the mountain without any fear. Lily was much more cautious but did actually quite well as well and so we managed to get back home without a scratch and all equipment intact. Live Love Ride