The person poised awkwardly in this picture is not me, but might as well be, except for one thing—he or, possibly, she is upright. The other day I spent hours on a mountain in the Cascades, falling over. It was my first lesson in cross-country skiing. That may be my instructor, Carla, watching, trying to keep a straight face.
I was in condition. I’ve been working out on a Nordic Track for years. How hard could it be? Hah. But by the end of the day, I was falling less often, no more than every hundred yards, and once I learned to make a V to slow or stop, the mild downhill grades were thrilling. I’m going back up there today, freezing rain or no freezing rain. If you learn with a coat of ice on the snow, it must be easier when there’s powder, right? It may become an addiction. At any rate, this will be the last posting of the day. I’m heading for the hills armed with the deathless words of Dorothy Fields.
Nothing’s impossible I have found,
For when my chin is on the ground,
I pick myself up, dust myself off,
Start all over again.
Don’t lose your confidence if you slip,
Be grateful for a pleasant trip, and
Pick yourself, dust yourself off,
Start all over again.
Work like a soul inspired,
Till the battle of the day is won.
You may be sick and tired,
But you’ll be a man, my son
Will you remember the famous men,
Who had to fall to rise again, so
Take a deep breath, dust yourself off,
Start all over again.
Jerome Kern and Dorothy Fields, “Pick Yourself Upâ€