February 1990
slow learner
My favorite part of the Sunday New York Times was the Travel Section and I anxiously awaited it each week. One winter, there was an article about skating on the frozen Rideau Canal of Ottawa where one could literally skate for several MILES. I was captivated. This was something I had to try. I was not a particularly good ice-skater, but I did enjoy it. One long weekend in February I found myself headed to the Great White North with one goal, to ice skate on a canal as far as my legs would take me.
Luckily, winter in Canada outside of ski resorts is not popular (even among Canadians), so I had no problem getting a cheap ticket to Ottawa. I stayed in the local youth hostel which turned out to be a lot of fun off-season since it was filled with unusual travelers and characters. As for me, I had only one goal - get down to the canal, rent skates, and go!
The skate rental center was very organized and in short order I had acquired skates, put away my shoes, and started doing some practice loops near the entrance. Wow, I was woefully out of practice. After some time, however, I was confident to set out and away I went.
Ottawa was snow covered and the Houses of Parliament made a lovely backdrop as I skated away from the city center. The ice was well-maintained. As I skated, I encountered fewer and fewer people. Finally, it was just me skating in a winter wonderland. The experience was amazing and one of those rare times that I was actually enjoying the moment. Finally, my feet ached a bit and I was ready to return. Only then did my huge mistake hit me - I had to SKATE all the way back. I was already kind of tired... wow, how stupid had I been?
The enjoyment turned first to pain and later to near agony. I did make it back barely able to stand up on the skates. I hardly noticed the beauty of the Parliament buildings as I slowly approached them. When I put on my shoes, I realized I could barely walk as well. I had blisters and my muscles were in spasm. I limped back to the hostel to recover (no doubt regaling hostel mates with tales of my stupidity). A lot of Canadian beer over in Hull that evening most certainly helped me recover from my ill-planned adventure.
Strangely enough, it was not my first time to do such a stupid thing. Once while a student at Georgetown, I decided to bike to Mt Vernon one sunny summer day. Of course, it was a wonderful experience and I loved it. After reaching Mt Vernon and relaxing a bit, I realized it was a very long ride back to DC and the light was waning. I managed to finish most of the trail before it got too dark, but I rode back to DC on poorly lit trails out of Alexandra. In the pre-cell phone world, my roommates back on Capitol Hill waited for me worriedly. I limped home to their relief and then, of course, they all had a good laugh at my expense.
After such an experience, one might think I would have learned something. A few years later in Ottawa, Canada, it became obvious I had not.
[Note: it WAS the last time I did anything similar]
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