I was out skiing today and shoes came to mind. Imagine that, shoes. When I was a young lad my brothers and I got fresh boards from Gart Brothers in Ft. Collins one winter. They were touring skies with fish scales. I'm still at a lose for waxing, even my skate skies are done for me by friends or at the local shop. I learned to ski across the street on the municipal golf course. I loved walking across the street and skootching across the snow covered grass. I could ski across the golf course then under the highway and access the back nine. My brothers preferred taking they Y bus to the Snowies for down hill skiing. The big hill wasn't for me.
One day the three of us headed up to the Jack and the abandoned ski hill. They took their down hill skies and I had my kick and glide rig. But, I forgot my boots. My big brother Ed suggested that I wear his addidas gazelles. Zowie, it was like wearing a pair of fancy Olympic ski shoes. Luckily the bindings were 3pins and my feet were much smaller than the shoes. I cranked to binding down on the toe of the shoes and off I went. Later, of course, my feet were killing me. And, as was the case with the blue gazelles my socks were died a beautiful blue but at least I was skiing.
I used those skies until my sophomore year in college. I still look, now and then, for low top ski shoes for skating, but I don't think any would come close to the gazelles.
Just like shoes my sole has been dyed by the people I've skied or run with.
I skied up at the Jack today with Vicky. As we quietly skied side-by-side. Though we didn't ski much together I always enjoyed when we did. Our time together is coming to an end. But my our paths cross on the happy trails of the Jack.
