Saturday, March 01, 2008
Riding the Sled... of DEATH AND TERROR!!!
So, on a nice winter day in the midwest, nothing is better than breaking out the sleds and hitting the local sledding hill. It's even better when you're a young father taking his boy out for the first time. Talk about exciting! I figured this would be a wonderful formative experience for my son; a perfect opener for a lifetime full of fun outdoor activities. He and I would ride down the hill laughing and smiling, and when we got to the bottom, he'd look up at me with adoring eyes and a smile and say "AGAIN!" as he does anytime he gets a kick out of something. He'd see me as a hero... a giant ushering him into a future full of fun and excitement.
It was with these humble goals in mind that we decided to pack up the car and drive over to the perfect sledding hill in Plymouth. It was a sunny day and a recent winter storm had just blanketed the region in several inches of fresh, clean, crisp powder. After we got out of the car, Julie and I decided that we should probably acclimate Miles to the sled so as not to dilute the sheer fun and joy that would be had on the downhill to come, so we put him in the sled in the parking lot and let him have a ride while I pulled (see fig. 1).
Fig. 1 - subject being pulled in sled in parking lot
As you may notice in Fig. 1, Miles was not exactly happy with this scenario, presumably because we weren't moving fast enough, or at a steep enough grade. Not to worry, I have just the remedy for this problem just ahead!!! Despite his mothers concerns, I knew this would be a perfect introduction to winter sports for our son.
Fig. 2 - subject with overprotective guard
We perched our trusty plastic and foam steeds at the summit and took a moment to breathe in the cool, rarefied air. Surveying the landscape, one could feel the electricity in the air, pure energy emanating from the other children and parents taking in the thrills of natures roller coaster.
Despite my certainty of the coming sled-tastic-funtime, Miles (and his mother) was still not yet convinced this was something for him. He peered over the edge momentarily, then quickly buried his face in his mother's down coat screaming words of protest. "He has no idea how much he's going to love this", I thought to myself...
Fig. 3 - subject observing average height male w/ child at hill terminus
After a well thought out strategy, I decided it's time to get a move on. I placed Miles on the sled and sat with him. Despite this being the first time I've been on a sled in at least 10 years, I was fully confident in my sledding abilities and vast knowledge of sled related conditions and strategies. Besides, I've been exercising regularly, I'm a mountain biker, racquetball player, runner and swimmer, I think I can handle a measly kid's sled on a little soft, fluffy, friendly snow.
We got comfortable, and I edged our way to the hill. Gravity quickly took over, and we were on our way. As the sled quickly gathered speed, I began to get a little nervous. Things felt slightly out of control. As we approached what I can only guess was approximately 219 miles per hour, I gently applied pressure with the heel of my boot to the icy, rock solid frictionless surface we were speeding down. This was useful only for creating a plume of a snow/ice mixture which was rather inconveniently directed at Miles face. Realizing this was pointless, I began to consider my options of bailing out. How would I protect Miles in a supersonic eject procedure? Would it be better to be rolling down the hill at ludicrous speed, or to remain on the vessel of death? How would I be able to spin my gravely mistaken pre-conceptions to Julie when this was all over?
Miraculously, the sled finally came to a stop, and I believe that it took a full two seconds for light to catch up to us, with our screams of terror following about 5 seconds after that. I dusted Miles and myself off, tried to re-gain composure after my near death experience, and consoled Miles, told him that we were OK, and "Oh look, here comes Mommy!" I watched as Julie rocketed down the same hill behind us, a similar look of non-control to her descent. Miles simply sobbed uncontrollably.
Fig 4 - after the ride (subject not pictured)
OK, so it didn't go exactly like I had in mind. I suppose forever scarring your offspring is a part of parenting. Here's some pictures of less important events:
Fig. 5 - subject observing water in a relaxed manner
Fig. 6 - subject happily prepared for a sane descent
Fig. 7 - subject appreciative of non-near death experience
We all recovered from the experience to have a nice morning, Julie took Miles on an appropriately sized hill (show off!), and we came home and had some hot chocolate by the fire. Pretty close to a Rockwell painting, if you ask me (and you avoid recalling the first 15 minutes at the park).
Next year: skiing!
PS - here's a little taste of how this felt on the sled.
It was with these humble goals in mind that we decided to pack up the car and drive over to the perfect sledding hill in Plymouth. It was a sunny day and a recent winter storm had just blanketed the region in several inches of fresh, clean, crisp powder. After we got out of the car, Julie and I decided that we should probably acclimate Miles to the sled so as not to dilute the sheer fun and joy that would be had on the downhill to come, so we put him in the sled in the parking lot and let him have a ride while I pulled (see fig. 1).
Fig. 1 - subject being pulled in sled in parking lotAs you may notice in Fig. 1, Miles was not exactly happy with this scenario, presumably because we weren't moving fast enough, or at a steep enough grade. Not to worry, I have just the remedy for this problem just ahead!!! Despite his mothers concerns, I knew this would be a perfect introduction to winter sports for our son.
Fig. 2 - subject with overprotective guardWe perched our trusty plastic and foam steeds at the summit and took a moment to breathe in the cool, rarefied air. Surveying the landscape, one could feel the electricity in the air, pure energy emanating from the other children and parents taking in the thrills of natures roller coaster.
Despite my certainty of the coming sled-tastic-funtime, Miles (and his mother) was still not yet convinced this was something for him. He peered over the edge momentarily, then quickly buried his face in his mother's down coat screaming words of protest. "He has no idea how much he's going to love this", I thought to myself...
Fig. 3 - subject observing average height male w/ child at hill terminusAfter a well thought out strategy, I decided it's time to get a move on. I placed Miles on the sled and sat with him. Despite this being the first time I've been on a sled in at least 10 years, I was fully confident in my sledding abilities and vast knowledge of sled related conditions and strategies. Besides, I've been exercising regularly, I'm a mountain biker, racquetball player, runner and swimmer, I think I can handle a measly kid's sled on a little soft, fluffy, friendly snow.
We got comfortable, and I edged our way to the hill. Gravity quickly took over, and we were on our way. As the sled quickly gathered speed, I began to get a little nervous. Things felt slightly out of control. As we approached what I can only guess was approximately 219 miles per hour, I gently applied pressure with the heel of my boot to the icy, rock solid frictionless surface we were speeding down. This was useful only for creating a plume of a snow/ice mixture which was rather inconveniently directed at Miles face. Realizing this was pointless, I began to consider my options of bailing out. How would I protect Miles in a supersonic eject procedure? Would it be better to be rolling down the hill at ludicrous speed, or to remain on the vessel of death? How would I be able to spin my gravely mistaken pre-conceptions to Julie when this was all over?
Miraculously, the sled finally came to a stop, and I believe that it took a full two seconds for light to catch up to us, with our screams of terror following about 5 seconds after that. I dusted Miles and myself off, tried to re-gain composure after my near death experience, and consoled Miles, told him that we were OK, and "Oh look, here comes Mommy!" I watched as Julie rocketed down the same hill behind us, a similar look of non-control to her descent. Miles simply sobbed uncontrollably.
Fig 4 - after the ride (subject not pictured)OK, so it didn't go exactly like I had in mind. I suppose forever scarring your offspring is a part of parenting. Here's some pictures of less important events:
Fig. 5 - subject observing water in a relaxed manner
Fig. 6 - subject happily prepared for a sane descent
Fig. 7 - subject appreciative of non-near death experienceWe all recovered from the experience to have a nice morning, Julie took Miles on an appropriately sized hill (show off!), and we came home and had some hot chocolate by the fire. Pretty close to a Rockwell painting, if you ask me (and you avoid recalling the first 15 minutes at the park).
Next year: skiing!
PS - here's a little taste of how this felt on the sled.
# posted by Jason Weida @ 9:00 AM 
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I am so sorry Julie, but I really love reading Jason's blogs.
Jason, I think you should consider writing a children's story. You have a lot of potential.
Jason, I think you should consider writing a children's story. You have a lot of potential.
What is pwn3d some of you may be wondering? (I know I was.) According to the urban dictionary it means "When one NERD claims superiority over another." So not only does Jason have fancy words, he now uses nerd words to encrypt his meaning. You may not beat me in one-on-one, but you got me with your witty vernacular.
Great commentary!! I'm at work reading your blog and laughing out loud! Jason u r very good at writing.
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# posted by 
: 28 March, 2008 10:36
: 28 March, 2008 10:36 << Home
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