Ever since Friday cross country skiing has been a topic of conversation. Ryan has insisted that we go and so I oblige him. We go to Sebago Lake which has groomed trails but no tracks carved into the snow. I have never been cross country skiing before and have no idea what to expect, only that I know it can't be as bad as being out of control flying down a hill waiting to be pummeled.
I borrow our roommates skis since she is my size (the best part about living with someone the same size as you) and we're off. After 30 or 40 minutes I'm thinking this isn't bad, in fact, I actually like it. So we had a great time and all the way home, R is like, "We have to get you skis".
We get home and I'm in full cross country ski research mode. I am bound and determined to find a great deal on skis and actually learn what I'm buying and why. So I find some skis on craigslist and they are like new Rossignols with boots and poles for $100 and I'm thinking there's no way these are still available. But they are and I come to the conclusion that they will be mine.
Arrangements are made and we drive 30 minutes north where the seller has agreed to meet us in the parking lot of a gas station. As we're pulling up I have this total movie moment like we're about to embark in a drug deal. She has the goods and I have cash.