My Story of Cross-Country Skiing

I write this because I am extremely thankful.

My daily winter exercise of taking a walk didn't happen this year. I only did it once and here's why.

It started with a suggestion at a meeting with my nutritionist eighteen months ago. I was pondering the first winter of the new me and the anxiety I felt about how I would stay active during the cold months. I was confounded by the suggestion that I take up cross country skiing. I thought, "Me? Wasn't skiing for the very fit and very dedicated?"

I thought back to grade five when our class took cross country skiing lessons. At first it was tedious, but after a few sessions and some downhill thrills, I loved it and vowed very sincerely that I would do it again one day, even if I had to wait until I was an adult.

I always intended to, I didn't forget. However, the years of descending deeper and deeper into obesity eroded any ambitions I had to keep past promises.

I still remembered the promise to myself 35 years ago and the fond memory when the idea of cross country skiing was suggested to me as a middle-aged adult. I tried to picture how it would work, where I would do it, and what it would look and feel like. I was told there is an annual ski swap where used equipment could be purchased and that there were groomed ski trails in some central city parks.

I still couldn't imagine it. It wouldn't come together in my mind.

Skiing couldn't be for me. Not for now, anyway. It was a misguided idea, I concluded.

One Year Later

Winter was approaching once again and my last gasps of cycling season were taking place on cold, barren trails alone, without my son or my wife. During my previous fitness quests/weight loss periods, winter was always the time when I failed. I couldn't stay active and I struggled to maintain my summer weight while my physical conditioning reversed. Winter was a period of remorse. I impatiently waited for another summer to restart my physical activity and, thereby, my success and well-being.

Cycling was big for me last summer and I wanted something fun more than ever to replace it for winter. I saw a poster for the ski swap and took the family to check it out. We realized that we actually had ski equipment in the shed and remembered the many times we almost threw it out. The staff was helpful and I left with skis for my son and a determination that I was going to try skiing this year, one way or another.

The snow came early and heavy. I decided to test out my equipment by the light of the moon so I wouldn't be seen. I can barely remember what that was like. I took one timid, wobbly step at a time and formed a straight line between my back gate and a group of trees off in the distance. I'd turn around and return, slowly. I wasn't skiing as much as snowshoeing with skis and trying desperately just not to fall over.

It wasn't coming to me after several days of attempts and I couldn't shake my tentativeness. I was determined to keep trying and trying until I got it. Night after night I'd go out and make tracks. After a week or so my son came out with me and we made a triangle track that was longer. And then, like so many other pivotal points in my fitness quest, my nine year-old son showed me the way.

We went to a quiet novice ski trail at a small city park. His first times skiing were nothing to him. My top-heavy body struggled. My knees buckled slightly under my weight when flexing my knees. But I had to keep up with the boy so I endured until, after a couple outings at the public trail, something clicked and I found myself more or less...skiing. I knew that day that I could do it, that I was capable of it, if not now than soon. That realization changed everything.

My boy and I started making 1/3 KM trails on the pipeline easement behind our home. After a few passes we realized that we had made a pretty usable cross country ski trail. It wasn't as perfect as a groomed trail in the city parks but it was good enough, especially because it was just out our back gate. No fifteen minute drives and stuffing skis into the car to get there. In fact, it was incredible.

We built something that we enjoyed and had all to ourselves. It was there to use anytime we wanted. That was a tremendous feeling for our whole family. It was like our very own winter amusement park. The kids were happy, my wife was giddy, and I had figured out a way to stay active and have fun all winter.

We've often lamented how our home is many busy city streets away from bike trails but it makes up for it by having this winter wonderland right at our doorstep.

Letting Go

So I began skiing by loading up the car and taking a fifteen minute drive to an unfamiliar park. Then, suddenly, I was doing it out my back gate. No drives, no loading and we were never far from the water tap or the bathroom. We even started leaving our young kids at home alone on days they didn't want to come. We were always within earshot if they had a problem.

But sometimes they'd join us and we spend a weekend afternoon gliding down hills and making new trails. My son would produce maps of our current trails and copy them for the family. More often than not we'd spend an hour and a half or two hours at play. Other than cycling, there's no activity where I can let go and have fun like that--not realizing that I'm exercising. You wouldn't find me on a treadmill for two hours, or even going for a walk in the city for that long.

• Watch a video of my family skiing

A book on skiing that my wife brought home from the library advises you to let go and just play, the same approach a child would have. Children don't worry about technique they just have fun.

Letting go started to happen with me when I was out enjoying the fresh crystalline air with my family. (SO much better than a stuffy gym.) I'd just let go and play. I'd worry about what my next objective of fun was instead of thinking about how I was doing. Without realizing it, skiing got easier for me.

My Long Torso

But it's still a challenge. I'm still very overweight and I'm top-heavy because of that and because of the proportions of my legs and torso. Either I have short legs or a long torso. I like to think I have a long torso (I have to buy tall-sized shirts even though I'm barely 6'0".)

I was finding that when I bent my knees, as you do when you ski, my left knee was a bit wobbly. My legs were strong but just not in a specific skiing way. I approached my exercise counselor to help me address that shortcoming at the gym (two days a week at my clinic still.) I started using the vibration trainer. I basically maintained the ski stance on it and then I also incorporated balancing on one leg at a time. This quickly got me into the condition necessary to ski. This problem may be unique to me. Nevertheless, spending time skiing would have also strengthened my knees as well.

Fat People Don't Ski

I had a hard time finding out online if an overweight person can ski. There's hardly any mention of it on the internet. I certainly didn't see any overweight people skiing on the public trails. Everyone is tall and lanky, like competitive cyclists, it seems.

Ski shop staff didn't have answers on the weight issue. There's a scale you step on at the ski shops that resembles the Threat Alert system in the United States. It's basically got three colours that the needle goes to to tell you which skis to buy. Naturally, the needle went of the charts for me, implying that I was too fat to ski.

From what I gathered, they make skis for different weights (this is important to support you on the surface of the snow and to allow you to glide easily across it). The heaviest weights are up to around 200 pounds. Apparently, no one could possibly ski who's over 200 pounds. When I started, I was closer to 300 so don't let your weight stop you but I wouldn't use skiing as your first exercise because you'd risk not enjoying it. Most professionals advise to start with walking and move on to other activities you enjoy. For me, in the wintertime, it's definitely skiing.

Of course most people know skiing is a good exercise because it's gentle on your joints and it uses your upper body as well. I've actually had people gasp when I tell them I ski. "Why would you want to do all that work?" one person asked. Don't believe it. It's a myth. It's fun, not work. No one would do it if it were work. Runners don't run because it's work. They run because it feels really good to them. The sedentary often think of everything as work but it's not. The only work involved is in changing your attitude.

When I went to the ski swap in November, four months ago, I knew nothing about skiing other than what I could recall from grade five (basically how to turn was about it!) Now I'm familiar with the different kinds of bindings, wax and waxless skis and I'm a connoisseur of all the different kinds of snows that nature produces and how to wax my skis in different temperatures. It all just came to me because I enjoyed the activity so much.

Winter is Your Friend

Winter is four or five months long where I live. It's often more cold than snowy. People complain about winter endlessly here. Even many active people restrict themselves to indoor exercise. I've written extensively on how my attitude toward winter has changed. This affects more than the amount of fitness I can achieve in the winter, it affects my whole approach to life.

I'm no longer caged indoors. I've been out there on the coldest of days enjoying the fresh air without pain or suffering (other than that skiing in cold weather is more tedious because your skis don't slide easily.) People don't even want to drive to the gym on cold days but I've been able to enjoy all variations of winter weather and I've made many discoveries.

I'm more in tune with nature now. The vast, barren area behind my house is alive in winter. There's dozens of rabbits (who like to poop on my ski tracks and only on my ski tracks) as well as packs of coyotes who go shopping for the rabbits, I presume, and a crow who knows me by name. There's also snowmobilers who wreck my trails, but we've learned to live with each other. I've discovered that frigid cold howling winds will create snow drifts that are so hard I can walk on them even at my weight. I've learned that the natural world is still natural and inviting even on the most uninviting of cold winter days.

This year my family cheered when there was snow in the forecast. To the chagrin of my friends, for the first time in my life, I don't want winter to end.

Imagine that.

Now I have the unexpected challenge of trying to find a way to stay as active in the summer as I do in the winter!

Didn't see that coming.

Information

"Cross-country Skiing: Building Skills for Fun and Fitness"
by Steve Hindman  (2005)

The Regina Ski Club (Ski Swap is every November)

"The Jaw-Dropping Benefits of Cross-Country Skiing"
The Globe and Mail (News Article)

How I've Completely Changed My View on Winter

Courtesy the Internet

Like most people, I've often complained about winter being too long on the Canadian prairies. I may have even agreed with other people saying, "Well, maybe we could have one month of it at Christmas, just for variety." No one likes scraping ice off their car in the mornings and slipping on sidewalks, but I've changed my negative thinking on the subject of winter.

There's no question I froze my face and my legs some days walking to school when I was a kid. Winter could be painful and miserable. There were, however, some magical moments I can remember. I'm not talking about snowball fights or playing hockey at the local outdoor rink. I'm thinking about really harsh winter nights that I decided to venture outside out of sheer boredom.

I remember the utter quiet of it all. The fresh snow absorbing what little movement there was outside on those cold nights, or a howling wind whipping through power lines and creating a certain haunting feeling inside of me. The worse it was, the more alone you were in it. There's something about the winter landscape that's welcoming. It's like we humans were meant to exist here. It's not unnatural at all.

Decades of sedentary adult life have faded those rich memories and the feelings that accompanied them. Only now have they started to reappear as I try so hard to use winter to my health's advantage.

The other night my son and I embarked on a short trek away from the car to see if a bicycle bridge had been constructed before winter set in (he's has an unnatural interest in new roadways and related construction.) It was a Saturday night that was cool and windy with fresh snow blowing around. We walked away from the safety of the street lights and behind the houses onto the bike path that I had discovered only this summer.

It was beautiful in summer with lots of mature trees and a serene landscape that reminded me of a provincial park. When the leaves fall off the trees in September and everything is brown around here, I stop enjoying nature. But what I discovered that night was that once the snow comes, everything is beautiful again.

In the city even a moonless night can provide for a bright landscape in its darkest corners when there's snow everywhere. The green fir trees stood in stark contrast to the white waves of virgin snow around the familiar paved pathway.

Everything is quiet and peaceful in winter. Every movement and sound is amplified. The stars are brightest in the dry winter air. The cosmos is so vivid in winter it feels like it's painted onto the heavens just for you, almost within arm's reach.

We found the bridge. It was in fact there, but abandoned before completion when the snow and cold temps set in.

The field behind my house has the same beauty to it on a winter's night. Previous to now, I wouldn't have dreamed about venturing out there in winter. The idea never even crossed my mind. In spite of being surrounded by houses, the snow-covered field remains quiet and the sky brightly detailed. When the moon comes out and lights up the snow, it's feels almost like daytime.

My epic walk in -45 degree windchills last year also had me thinking about winter's beauty. In spite of the fury and the supposed danger all around me, I enjoyed the crisp fresh air and the serenity. It's not like anyone else was out there.

Now that I'm learning to love cross country skiing (can't get enough of it but I have a ways to go to master it well) I find myself having a completely opposite view on winter.

The other day I caught myself thinking, "Why is winter so short? It's only 3 good months of snow, why can't it be more?"

If I could only figure out a way to enjoy the "brown" seasons, those weeks of cold weather without snow or foliage, life would be perfect.

Eureka Moments in Sports: A Personal Story

My son struggles with a slippery hill on his first day but he did great.

It happened again: that moment when I knew I had mastered an athletic endeavor for the first time. I don't know many greater feelings after years of being sedentary and semi-disabled. Today, following several days of struggling, cross-country skiing finally clicked. I realized, I could--and will--do it.

It was a fantastic feeling, one that snuck on me and bit me in the ass.

In eighteen months these moments have come every now and again and put tremendous wind in my sails on this journey to change the course of my life.

It came when I suddenly got strong with walking, when I took my first bike ride in years, fell down and got up again, when I started to jog for several minutes at a time, and when I suddenly found myself jogging for twenty minutes. It even came when I realized I could go for a walk on a dangerously cold night and be perfectly warm. And it came this summer when I discovered mountain biking in a moment where I realized I loved it and I could do it. It was a new kind of fun for my long-time favourite activity: cycling.

They're moments of joy because I'm having a lot of fun when they happen. They're moments that open up a big can of hope because I can see my future ahead of me looking bright and the activity I've just conquered being a part of my success.

Today I took my son out to a city park several kilometers away from home where there was a groomed ski trail. It was his first time on skis and I did my best to impart to him what I had learned some 35 years ago when I was only one year older than him. I tried to teach him the basics of cross-country skiing that I had learned at school in grade five.

We headed out onto the groomed track and, unlike out in the field behind my house where I made my own tracks, everything began to work as it should after about 100 metres. Suddenly, I found myself gliding and kicking along as I should until my heart got pumping.

The hills are another story. That'll take some practice. I fell over, to my son's delight, going down a hill. But that's a good thing. When you're tentative about something, it's good to wipe out so you know you're not going to die or break anything if you do. From then on you can be more relaxed. And I was.

I look forward to continuing to get competent at cross-country skiing with the old used equipment I have and one day venturing out onto a groomed country trail to take in some nature with my son. I might even scrape up some money for a lesson one day. It's kind of a winter replacement for cycling (and it's even done in some of the same places.)

What's next? Maybe winter cycling. My son is trying to talk me into it. Stay tuned.

For now, I'd like to give a shout out to my nutritionist who suggested cross-country skiing to me a year ago as a way to stay active during the winter. And my thanks to the Regina Ski Club for grooming the trails and providing this opportunity for me. Skiers we've encountered have all been very kind and encouraging.

• Regina ski trails maps and current conditions

Note: The Regina Ski Club puts on a ski swap in early November every year. Used sporting goods stores also have ski equipment.

Strategies for Staying Active in the Winter

Mount Pleasant toboggan hill, Regina, Saskatchewan, Canada

I'm eighteen months or so into my new life as a healthy human being. It started with short walks and eventually took me places I thought I'd never go. In fact, there's so many things I've surprised myself by doing, I now refuse to rule anything out when I imagine my future. 

My second summer of fitness was a very active one. I took up mountain biking and cycled on hills and valleys for long periods of time (for an obese person). My fitness level was surprisingly improved when I returned to the gym in the fall. But I hated not being outdoors. I hated not having a sport to pursue when the leaves started to fall off the trees and it got cold outside.

I welcomed the snow when it finally came last week (in mid-November.) It gave me an opportunity to go tobogganing and even to try something new: cross-country--or "Nordic", as the kids call it nowadays--skiing. I hit the annual ski swap and outfitted myself and my son.

I discovered two pair of skis in my shed that I had recently wanted to get rid of. The idea of me ever using them seemed patently absurd. But like the encouraging man at the ski swap said, "There  ain't no mosquitoes in the winter time."

I created a ski trail outside my back yard in an adjacent field so I can practice (I took lessons in grade five and loved it) but it's coming really slowly to me. I'm fit enough to do it, it's just that I'm having problems with technique. I can't really get going. Mostly, I'm walking on my skis and just trying to keep upright.

My ski trail got messed up by contractors installing residential fiber optics.

I also bought a pair of ice skates. There's a speed skating oval near me that I would love to skate on. But it's been a long time and my body doesn't bend or repair like it used to.

Of all the things I've done to improve my fitness, nothing kicks my ass like slogging my heavy body up the large toboggan hill over and over again for an hour or two with my kids. I show up at the gym afterwards and my heart has grown to be as big as a basketball. Everything else I do is easier.  My heart and lungs work even more effortlessly than before. In other words, tobogganing really improves my fitness--like nothing else I've tried so far.

I now look forward to winter. It's the "in-between" non-cycling, non-winter sports seasons I dread.