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Slices of Skinnyski

by Margaret Adelsman

October 25, 2000

An MEA Weekend Adventure

This past weekend we, like many Minnesotans, decided to take advantage of MEA weekend and head out of town with the kids. We figured we could let the boys do some fun sightseeing, and we'd work in some scenic hikes and a stop at the Giants Ridge Rollerski race on Saturday. As always, the plan forms with the notion that fun and relaxation will abound, and we will all arrive home refreshed. I'm not sure why we always have this optimism since our track record would certainly support a completely opposite end-result. Perhaps it's some inherent gene whose expression is turned on once you become a parent. Its function would be to somehow increase stressful-trip-forgetfulness to ensure that parents don't simply lock themselves at home until their offspring all graduate out of the wayward food-throwing toddler phase.

So, on Thursday with our optimism still high, we set out for our destination of Duluth and had just enough time to explore the trains at The Depot before checking into our lodging. Everything seemed wonderful and we felt a little more at ease since we were in a self-contained unit, with no wall-to-wall neighbors to terrorize. After heading down to Canal Park in search of an "early" dinner around 5 p.m., we realized that most of the weekend visiting parents and their children had the same idea and had in fact arrived before us. It seemed like a sea of people wherever we looked. After a few attempts, it became clear that we would not find much less than a 45 minute wait to be seated in a restaurant, and the hungry squeals from the back of our car suggested that this was not a viable option. So, on our big vacation, we headed to the nearest grocery, stocked up on various dinner and breakfast items, and went back to our accommodation to cook for ourselves.

The remainder of that evening was spent trying to keep the boys out of trouble. The beds were prime for jumping; a convenient bunk bed became an irresistible jungle gym for Owen, who attempted about 300 excursions up the forbidden ladder. Sets of coasters became toys, rolls of toilet paper were mysteriously found dumped in a wastebasket or unrolled into an artistic heap of tissue on the bathroom floor. Even a stuffed toy, a nice decorative touch in our living room, became an issue in its singularity: there was continuous heated debate over which boy it belonged to. Needless to say, Bruce and I were both relieved when we had coaxed our two little wild ones off to sleep.

The following day offered a chance for us to hike and stretch our legs a bit on the hills of Spirit Mountain. It never fails to impress me when I can take in the magnificent view looking out over Duluth and Superior and the Great Lake shared by these cities. While the hill workout was not overly strenuous, it gave us all a chance to stretch our legs, get our lungs moving a bit, and check for critters under several interesting rocks.

All too soon, our checkout time arrived, and we packed up to catch a few sights before leaving town. We had planned to visit the new Freshwater Aquarium that morning, but the long line from the doorway suggested that everyone who had been eating out the previous evening was now visiting the aquarium. Judging by some of the other parents' faces, it occurred to me that perhaps MEA ought to stand for "Many Exhausted Adults." As enjoyable as it is to stand in lines for long periods of time, we opted to stop back later.

We hit the road again on Friday afternoon and made our way up to Giants Ridge. Upon arriving, I had to take a few minutes to orient myself with the new layout that has been established since my last visit a few years back. I can still remember when the training center was fairly new, and now it seems dwarfed by the new Lodge and associated buildings that have popped up nearby. Our room in the Lodge was very comfortable and spacious, and perhaps this only encouraged the continued inquisitive adventures by the boys. The beds were simply too tempting, and all drawers and closets needed to be explored. Toilet paper rolls were again a big hit, and the phone had all sorts of neat buttons to investigate. The most thrilling moments were perhaps when Owen needed to remind us of the strength of his vocal chords by spontaneously screaming and then laughing hysterically at his own cleverness. As for the restaurant, although it smelled wonderful, we simply didn't have the courage to face the dining room in person. I didn't want to risk causing a choking incident in reaction to another of Owen's vocal explosions, so we hid in our room and ordered our meals to eat-in. Hmm�I'm beginning to see a pattern here.

The following morning offered the adults in our group a little break from so much relaxation, and I was able to take a wonderful morning hike before Bruce got in a few km's on his rollerskis. As I headed out toward the woods, I could quickly see how much the Ridge has changed. The old stadium now seems a little smaller and leads out into a new golf course, which now sits in what used to be the wooded entry into the trail system. In addition, most of my memories of the Ridge are ones with it covered in snow, so it took me a few minutes to find my way around the new golf cart paths and out to the old familiar signs marking the Silver Trail. What a morning it was-I had the trail to myself, and the smells and sights of fall were everywhere. With each steep climb or descent I was reminded of the great challenges this course provides. I felt lucky to have had so many enjoyable racing experiences on these trails, now so quiet in the fall morning. Somehow it didn't seem quite so long ago when I was here with the course full of cheering skiers at collegiate regions or nationals. Those spirited team relays, in particular, will always hold a special spot in my heart. Out here it was easy to shed off the stress of traveling and of trying to present an enjoyable trip to our children without letting them get completely out of control.

When I got back to the room, Owen ran to the door and said, "Did you miss me?" "Of course, I missed you," I replied. "Thank you for missing me," he returned with his little serious face and then hustled off to rummage through a pile of toys on the floor. Such small sweet moments from these little tykes help erase many of the stressful moments and frustration that can build up on these family outings. As we made our way back home, the boys clapped along to a song on A Prairie Home Companion and talked about the neat things they'd seen and places they'd stayed. I realized that even though we adults don't seem to relax very much on trips, the boys had a marvelous time, probably because they don't take everything so seriously. Life is so simple to them, and so many things hold untold adventure and exploration when you are a child. We always return home tired and relieved to be back on familiar ground. Usually, we say something to the effect that it will be awhile before we venture out again. Still, in only a short time, things tend to appear rosier, and the old forgetful gene kicks in, encouraging us to pack up and try it again. This is a good thing, because we likely will be testing these waters again on at least a few race weekends this winter.

Margaret is married to Bruce Adelsman, and they have two young boys who hopefully will be future cross-country skiers. She skied competitively at Bemidji High School and Bemidji State University during the 1980's, and then in some citizen races in the early 1990's while in graduate school. She hopes to share new commentaries on a periodic basis related to various aspects of life as a cross-country skier.

Margaret can be reached at [email protected]


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