I live in walking distance of work and had plenty to do there, so I didn’t take a snow day. I strapped Yaktrax traction springs onto my boots, shoveled the first few inches of snow and 1/4 inch of ice off our walk, and headed in to work.
Big flakes, little flakes, medium-sized flakes flew by my window all day. By 3:00 I decided I should leave a little early so I could go out and play while the snow was still coming down.
I went home, grabbed my cross country skis, and headed to the Evansville waterfront to ski. I had to walk several blocks to get there and quickly became a neighborhood conversation piece.
A few houses down from mine, a guy looked up from trying to get his car to start under a thick blanket of snow and asked, “SKIS??” as if the sight of me confirmed that we were in the grip of a snow-pocalypse and the zombies were not far behind.
A kid on a porch next door asked, “Do you know how to use those things?”
A woman stuck on her porch whose car looked like a marshmallow lump in the street called out, “Now that’s not fair,” as I strolled by.
Later, some people attempting to clean their car off commented, “Now there’s some transportation.”
And another guy just stared for a long time then asked, “Are those skis?”
“Are those skis?”
“Yes, they are skis.”
“Wow, those are skis.”
One neighbor asked where the hill was. I explained that these were cross country skis for flat ground.
Her friend asked if there was any way she could try my skis. I told her that unfortunately you need special boots.
“Aww. I was afraid it would be something like that!” she said, making skiing motions with her arms like she was ready to give it a go.
The skiing itself was pretty good for Southern Indiana–which is saying it wasn’t that good. However, it’s only every few years that we get sufficient snow to ski, so I was just really happy to be out in it. For being in the center of the city, it was very peaceful gliding along. A few cars were out, but no people on foot. I skied along the riverfront all the way to the casino.
On the way back, a pack of enthusiastic runners passed me, stomping on my path and churning up the lower slush layer so my skis started to accumulate ice on the bottoms and I could barely move. Sigh. My reverie was lost.
After skiing, I drank a cup of hot chocolate in my bunny cup–just like I did as a child after my family got home from skiing in Goll’s Woods in Archbold.
The next morning, I went out again, figuring I should get my skiing in while I could. It was beautiful and sunny and extremely cold. Again, I didn’t see anyone else on the riverfront.