Yesterday’s post about skiing was running long, so I decided to split it into two parts.

In yesterday’s post I mentioned my adventures during my first time skiing in Japan. I also mentioned that I eventually got much better and then got injured. Along the way to that there were a couple adventures worth mentioning.

First, I was invited to join a group fellow JET Programme members at a camp where we planned to do some cross country skiing. We were going to be tutored by an expert Japanese skier who happened to be friends with one of my friends.

The adventure started, as Japanese adventures are wont to do, with a speech by the man–let’s call him Mr. Ski. It was more or less a history of cross country skiing and a lesson in the physics of cross country skis. The only bit I remember was that there were two kinds of cross country skis: the kind with ridges and the smooth kind for racing and hurting yourself badly.

The next day we were issued skis and started skiing. Right away I had trouble going up even a mild slope. I’d gone cross country skiing a lot when I lived in Hayden and even though I was terrible at it, I knew I was better than that. Mr. Ski kept chastising me for walking on the sides of my skis and falling behind.

The only funny bit about that was I was carrying a backpack with a camera and some water and when I took the pack off to check my skis, the heat and sweat that had built up under the pack met cold air and I started steaming so much it apparently looked like my back was on fire.

It turned out I had racing skis, which have no tread at all on the bottom and were designed for the skating motion, not the running motion. I was immediately issued a new pair of skis and an apology from Mr. Ski. Luckily, I didn’t get hurt that day.

A couple years later, for reasons I still don’t fully understand, the local ski resort opened and managed to recruit a Canadian professional to serve as instructor for one year. He got stuck living at the ski resort and I provided occasional escapes and chances to eat real food and get naked.

In exchange for those chances to escape, he offered me free powder and mogul lessons when I had time to go skiing and he didn’t have any paid lessons. I learned a lot from him and he’s another one of those Temporary Friends Forever.

Then, I moved to Tokyo and got married and had a daughter and just a fortnight before my oldest’s first birthday, I went skiing at the local ski resort in Nou-Machi and experienced one of those moments when lack of skill met lack of brains met temporary panic met bad decision making. I ended up with a sprained knee and a trip to the hospital. (I did get to ride down the mountain in the little ambulance sled which was kind of cool.)

Since then my limp has gotten worse and my double set of bad knees has hindered my karate skills and weakened one of my calves to the point I’ll probably need a hiatus from karate.

But I still go skiing almost every year. I’m stupid that way.