Last winter, we had several fine dumps of snow, and after one of them the idea that there was actually someplace to go skiing around here started eating at my brain. Eventually, I convinced our offspring, A., that she simply must learn how to ski, so the two of us ventured forth. Equipmentless (and cursing myself for selling off my skis, boots, and poles some years ago), we rented the standard crappy rear-entry rental boots and under-waxed and -edged rental skis, but the shop employees were very helpful and friendly (this is Iowa, after all), and gave A. a 20-minute free beginner's lesson on the bunny slope ('field' might be more accurate). Then I showed A. how to get on chairlift (chairlift! Iowa!), not fall off the chairlift, and get off the chairlift at the top. There is precisely one (1) green slope at Seven Oaks, and we spent a couple hours riding the lift up, making the 3 or 4 turns possible in 200 vertical feet, and doing it again.
A. was doing pretty well; fortunately for her, she inherited her mother's coordination and motor skills rather than mine. But after a few trips up and down, her attention started wandering to the slopes just beyond the ski runs - where there were 3 troughlike lanes carved out of the snow, extending from the top of the hill to an icy flat at the bottom. People were riding big innertubes down the lanes, spinning and shouting wildly, and sliding way out onto the flat. A. looked more and more longingly over at the tube-riders as time when on.
"Dad, can we do that?"
"Well..." I tried to explain that skiing was clearly superior to riding a tube; skiing was a skill, riding a tube was just, well, riding a tube - where was the control, the mind-body coordination?
"Yeah, but... it looks more fun."
I stared off across the valley while trying to compose a rebuttal to this line of reasoning.
"...Well, it does."
Okay, fine. We turn in all the rental equipment, and get passes to ride the tubes.
The tubes are for truck tires, I guess. The sides and bottom are covered with canvas, and the bottom has an additional layer of hard, smooth plastic. They look kind of like gigantic blood corpuscles. The canvas cover has two straps for handles, and a pull rope that an attendant attaches to a tow rope that drags you uphill. At the top, you pick one of the 3 lanes, wait for the bottom to clear, and push off. By the time you get to the bottom of the slope, you're moving pretty fast - and then you start hitting the bumps, and you try not to go flying off the tube completely. Then trudge back to the tow rope and repeat. It is fun, in that aaaahhhhhh I'm out of control sort of way.
So this year, A. wanted to go tubing again. We had some good snow a few weeks ago, but nothing since then, so conditions weren't quite as good. Still, we got our tickets, and grabbed some tubes, and began sliding. I discovered that if I put the straps toward the back and laid flat on my stomach, I could both hold on and also keep my form pretty streamlined, so that I moved quite fast when I hit the bottom of the slope. Because of the lack of new snow, the slide across the flat took you from ice to muddy ice to icy mud to puddles, grass, bark chips, and dirt. And bumps - once or twice I felt like I was going to bounce completely off the tube. After about an hour of this, I slowly realize - my back is just not feeling quite right, but do I stop? Of course not! After another hour, I realize d that my lower back is not happy, so I stopped, finally. On the way home, I had to readjust the car seat so that stepping on the clutch didn't send shooting pains up my back.
Now, a week later, I think I'm mostly recovered, but I still have to stand up slowly, hunching over like an old man and s-l-o-w-l-y straightening up. Periodically, I get weird tingly feelings in my legs if I sit down too long.
I think I'm done tubing. Oh, and aging sucks.