A few weeks ago, I bought some brand new classic skis from the Nordic Shop in Squamish. Yesterday morning, I woke up super early with the plan of taking O cross country skiing, to finally break in the new skis. No matter that it was pissing down rain, I was committed. So I packed everything in the car and agreed to drop off the man at ski school on the way (he's a ski instructor). Halfway there, he said something about skis and I realized, "Oh shit! My new skis aren't fastened into the ski rack!". The man opened the sun roof, slammed shut the ski rack, and all was good. Although I did receive a lecture about making sure all equipment is secure before driving away.
So I took O to Whistler's Meadow Park and went cross country skiing for the second time ever in my life. And his. O ran around the parking lot for twenty minutes while I figured out how to put the damn skis on. Thank goodness no one was there to see me. I was seriously convinced for a while that the bindings / boots were broken. Finally, we were ready to go. O looked so excited, because skis usually mean speed. But there was nothing fast about that ski expedition. I must have fell over at least four times. Eventually, O looked bored and we headed back to the car, where he met another dog. Finally, he got to run around at top speed. Hopefully next time will be better!
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