Word: skying
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Last weekend I was poised on the top of a mountain range, about to shoot down half a mile of icy slush on skis badly in need of sharpening, and a question occurred to me: does absence really make the heart grow fonder? My family took off a few days to do some much-needed bonding on the slopes of the Sunday River Ski Mountain in central Maine, and I made the painful decision to forsake life in Cambridge for a short while. As I skidded and slalomed down the trail on Saturday morning, I was surprised to watch...
...joys of skiing are simple yet profound. The satisfying “Shhkshhhhkshhh” sound the skis make becomes my entire world for ten brief minutes, momentarily eclipsing any deadlines, doubts or discouragements in my mind. There’s a very Zen pleasure in trying to drop the H-Bomb on two Canadian ski-bunnies at night and crashing and burning when they think I said “Hartford College.” My après-ski still seems to need some work. Enjoying tripping over my skis by the main chairlift and wiping...
...started with surrogate skis called Crosskates. Unlike inline skates, which are mounted directly above four hard, rubbery wheels, each Crosskate ($700 a pair) is attached to a hollow, 2-ft.-long aluminum bar, with a rugged, air-filled tire on each end. The metal frame gives the skates extra stability, and the front wheels pivot to the side to make turning easier. You use ski poles to help push yourself along. "I wanted people to experience the sensation of skiing without having to drive three hours to get to the snow," says inventor Jamie Page, 30, a mechanical engineer...
While sweating on the elliptical machine at the gym, completely absorbed by Giant Slalom ski racing on TV, I finally understood why Norwegian Ole Einar Bjoerndalen’s chance for a fourth gold medal in the biathlon mattered to me. As a friend hopped on the machine next to me, managing to distract me from the TV, I apologized for my unfriendliness and Olympic absorption. But then she popped a question that hadn’t ever occurred to me to ask myself...
...lost art in my programmed, future-focused life. So while I know I’m not going to be on a medal stand anytime soon, I’m certainly much more aware of the possibilities of teleporting from the chairs in Lamont Library to a Park City ski slope. And I urge you, instead of fantasizing about a 40 on your MCATs, try to dream about winning gold, even though some students here already have...