Winter Sports, or why I am officially awesome

Despite the fact that the whole East coast back home has gotten more snow than we have here in Southern Finland this year, I still thought this was a good place to try out some winter sports.

So, a couple of weekends ago, some friends and I headed to a park where you can rent cross-country skis.  In my mind, this was going to be effortless- gliding over the snow, enjoying the scenery, something akin to ice skating.  I was wrong.  I no sooner strapped the skis to my feet than I realized my mistake.  Skiing is hard work! The 4 year old Finns were passing me on the practice track.  I alternated between clumsy attempts at walking while wearing skis, and nearly knocking myself over as I tried to use the ski poles to help me along.  Every once in a magical moment, I'd somehow get the rhythm right and be gliding.  It would last just long enough for me to think "I'm finally getting the hang of this!" when once again, I'd come to a stop and be clumsily trying to move forward again.


Anyway, practice makes perfect, or in my case, limited practice ensures continued forward momentum. So we left the practice track and headed on to the 2 kilometer loop through the woods.  We started with an uphill section, and I thought I was going to have to give up- for every step I managed to inch forward, I slid 3 back downhill.  My Finnish friend Henna finally came to my rescue, explaining how to spread my skis in a V shape and walk with the weight on the inside of the ski.  Despite the continued awkwardness and mostly slow pace, there were moments when it was magical.  The pine trees glistened with snow.  I found the right rhythm more frequently.  As I took a sharp curve on a downhill stretch and careened off the track, I managed to keep my balance and not knock anyone else over flailing my ski poles.  When we got to the end of the loop and Henna asked if we wanted to go again, I caught my breath, paused, and said yes.

Skiing however, was tame compared to this week's adventure. Finns love their saunas.  In the winter, to cool down after the sauna, they also love to dip into the ice cold sea.  This sounds crazy to me.  However, it also sounds rather awesome, and I wanted to be able to tell about the time that I went ice swimming in Finland, and I couldn't tell the story unless I actually did it.  So, when the International Student organization planned a trip for sauna and ice swimming, I signed up.  The sauna, at 163 degrees fahrenheit, felt blissfully warm after so many grey, chilly days of winter.  Walking outside and down the dock to the ocean didn't even feel so bad after being so hot.  As soon as I dipped my toes in the water though, I changed my mind. That felt bad.  Like a million needles being stuck into your skin at once.  But I came to go ice swimming, and ice swim I would.  I walked a little farther down the steps, slowly making my way in up to my waist. At that point, I decided in or out was just about equally as cold so I plunged in.  My whole body felt like it was on fire.  I gasped my way out of the water, numb enough that I looked down to make sure I hadn't lost the bottom half of my swim suit since I certainly couldn't feel it on my body anymore.  It was still there.  Slowly, the just above freezing air outside started feeling comfortable, compared to my dip in the ice.  We stood around, chatting in our swimsuits, enjoying the "comfortable" temperature, while a man in a parka, gloves, and a hat grilled sausages on the stove.  Before I even started shivering, we headed back into the sauna for round 2.  After 3 dips into the icy Baltic, and enough time in the sauna to feel like I needed to rehydrate, we called it a day.

And now?  I am officially awesome by my own definition.  If you had any doubts, you can lay them at rest.  I went ice swimming in the Baltic sea in February.  What more does it take?

(just in case you doubt the authenticity of my story, here's some photographic evidence.)