My (awkward!) return to cross-country skiing—after years and years—is beginning to resemble open-water swimming in the summer that now seems a lifetime ago. I am, of course, speaking atmospherically in reference to those days when the Moonrise coincides with the Sunset making one feel more connected to Nature than usual and, at the same time, like an insignificant, albeit conscious speck of dust in the great, wide Cosmos.
Of course, such distraction of the senses makes a novice skier lose a bit (a lot) of control! (Also, it's probably not the best idea to take smartphone pictures while exercising. ) One such moment suddenly brought me back to my childhood.
My elementary-school classmates and I were participating in a cross-country skiing gym class at Sparrow (Lenin's) Hills in Moscow. The tracks resembled an ice rink making me unable to stop on a down turn.
As a result, you guessed it, I rammed into a tree!
Just like a cartoon character.
Only it was real, a bit painful, and "a lot "embarrassing.
Now, don't you go starting rumors that this childhood incident is the real reason for my lengthy break from this wonderful sport!