One Christmas morning, back when we were all fairly young, we walked down the stairs to find that Santa had left us cross country skis. Even my parents. Hmm I thought, besides the few school trips to Nordic "Mountain" we as a family are not skiers. What are we going to do with these? I remember using them a few times, I also remember falling A LOT and getting ticked because my two sisters were cross country ski naturals. We used them a few times around the drive way, to this day I still haven't seen my Dad up on ski's (water, downhill or cross country for that matter). The boots were put away into a closet and the skis found a new home in the garage. And there they sat to collect dust.
I was home this past weekend to see the family, spend time with Isaac and work on a bull we're consigning to an upcoming Hereford sale in March. My friend Brenda came to our place too and helped out. The bull was tied up chewing his cud and there wasn't much left to do, but it was soo sunny and nice out. One of those winter days were the fresh air was too good to be spending the afternoon in the house. Huh... what to do.... hey why not cross country ski? Yes! Let's go... but wait which closet in the house did we decide was a "good", "obvious" place to store the boots? Standstill moment, till we were on the mad search of tearing apart the house. We found them and thank god there were at least two sizes that fit us. Pretty sure I've been the same shoe size since the 6th grade. Boots on... Boots clicked into skis...(This one took me a couple tries) and poles in hand... After a few practice laps around the drive away we were off. To the cross country trails? Of course not! Down the road to the lane my Dad takes with the tractor to get into the fields.
|Like a pro!|
|Carhartts so fashionable.... I'm kidding... |
Working in the barn to cross country skiing.