Cross-country skis differ from their downhill counterparts in that the boot clips to the ski at just the toe, leaving your heel free to move. This makes moving along the flat infinitely easer but at the cost of less control on turns and descents (surprise!). It also allows you to go over the top of your skis. Basic physics will tell you this. As will actually doing it.
I will offer one guess for the way this Physicist found that out.
At this point, a rather pathetic tantrum is thrown in which the neck and upper body are kept still out of necessity.
Having absorbed (rather literally) these vital scientific attributes, I headed further down the trail and paused to call back to a friend that the next decent did not look too bad. In fact, there was probably a 27.6% chance of our survival (it was she who had suggested that us beginners should go on a medium/difficult labelled run). At this point, I was informed by another skier that:
"It's just not an English sport at all! Not at all! I should know; I lived there for 15 years!"
I know most people do this easily, but I have to confess that I'm always impressed when people pin point an accent from just a handful of words. I truly can't do it and therefore happily assume that everyone sounds like me. This probably comes from a relic teenage disorder of desiring to be the same. However, I proudly drew myself up, tried to cover the evidence of my recent accident and informed the woman that, due to the sudden snowfall in the UK and repeated reruns of the movie "The day after tomorrow", the Government had sent civilians to Canada to wrestle polar bears and learn how to ski. They were then to become politicians.
On that note, this diplomat scooted off down the slope, only to take a wrong turn and have to do the latter half of the trail again at double speed to ensure she caught the bus back to Toronto.
In other news, I received my official socialised health care card today. I wonder if that was a hint.
I will offer one guess for the way this Physicist found that out.
At this point, a rather pathetic tantrum is thrown in which the neck and upper body are kept still out of necessity.
Having absorbed (rather literally) these vital scientific attributes, I headed further down the trail and paused to call back to a friend that the next decent did not look too bad. In fact, there was probably a 27.6% chance of our survival (it was she who had suggested that us beginners should go on a medium/difficult labelled run). At this point, I was informed by another skier that:
"It's just not an English sport at all! Not at all! I should know; I lived there for 15 years!"
I know most people do this easily, but I have to confess that I'm always impressed when people pin point an accent from just a handful of words. I truly can't do it and therefore happily assume that everyone sounds like me. This probably comes from a relic teenage disorder of desiring to be the same. However, I proudly drew myself up, tried to cover the evidence of my recent accident and informed the woman that, due to the sudden snowfall in the UK and repeated reruns of the movie "The day after tomorrow", the Government had sent civilians to Canada to wrestle polar bears and learn how to ski. They were then to become politicians.
On that note, this diplomat scooted off down the slope, only to take a wrong turn and have to do the latter half of the trail again at double speed to ensure she caught the bus back to Toronto.
In other news, I received my official socialised health care card today. I wonder if that was a hint.