sliding really fast

13 March 1999

Sometimes I wonder why I squandered my youth. If you're older than me you're probably laughing and think I am still young, but my body disagrees.

My soul wants to do things my body no longer appreciates. I finally have the fearlessness to take risks, to try athletic things that I should have done earlier in my life but was too confused or scared or restrained to do. Now (at almost 33), I want to skateboard, to play hockey, to dance wildly all night. But my body betrays me and I'm annoyed by this gap in timing. Couldn't my brain have found its fearlessness a little sooner? Ah well. I'm going to let my brain rule my body, as usual, and we'll see where it gets me. Probably in the hospital with a broken neck.

In my new attempt at athleticism, I went to a ski resort outside Nagano (where the Olympics were held last year) with twelve other hearty souls from work. Tod stayed home to sleep.

We hit the slopes at noon on Saturday. I calculated the years since I last skiied (1999 - 1979 = 20 years) and stuck to the easy slopes. Even on the beginners' runs I fell down a lot. Still, it was fun and I managed not to do any permanent damage to myself or anyone else. After a few hours I was doing better. I fell less often but more spectacularly since I allowed myself to go faster down the slopes. Well, I guess I should admit--going faster wasn't really a choice. It's just what my bad skiiing required me to do. Snowplowing my way to speed control was more than my inner thighs could handle and so speed was the only option.

I skiied for about four and a half hours and then headed back to our hotel. My companions trickled in by 5:30 and we went down to the hotel dining room at 6. Dinner was included in the price of our room and it was a feast. Arranged in front of each of us were plates and dishes heaped with food. Sashimi, breaded chicken cutlet with potato salad, carrot and seaweed salad, salted fish, bowls of rice, and three cauldrons of crab and pork hot pot soup for sharing. In addition there was a buffet table with steamed vegetables and steak. I thought I had worked up an appetite skiing, but I hardly ate anything.

After dinner, we bathed in the hotel's onsen. Public bathing is almost ritualistic in Japan. You scrub yourself clean while sitting on a low stool at the waist-high shower taps near the bath, being very careful to rinse away all the dirt and soap. Then you wrap you hair in a little towel and immerse yourself in the hot bath and soak to your heart's content. This onsen had two baths. One of hot water and one of very hot water. I tried both. It was nice and I got to know my coworkers a little bit better while we soaked.

The bath was relaxing and helped to take some of the aching out of my muscles. But not enough, really, so after waking on Sunday morning, I decided not to ski again. Instead, I wandered around the town and sketched. It was good to have a day to myself. I met some friends at the ski lodge for lunch then went back into town for more drawing. I had a brief conversation in Japanese with a woman walking her dogs; I found a shop that made homemade ice cream; I listened to the rush of water from the melting snow bubbling through gutters and drains.

On the train home, we celebrated Shinako's 30th birthday with some omiyage cakes I picked up in town. There were no plastic forks or serving implements to be had in the little shopping street (though I could have purchased myriad keychains, specially wrapped candies and cookies, handkerchiefs, dried fruits and shot glasses imprinted with ski motifs). I ended up buying some minature gardening implements--a tiny fork and shovel-- to serve the cake.

When I arrived home on Sunday evening I found that Tod had cleaned the house and done all the laundry and he fixed me dinner. A great way to end a weekend.