Competition?

Looks like there's more than one person in this apartment with some film credits...

(It's just a still image. Clicking that play arrow above will only lead you to a bigger image. I'll let our movie star release these videos on his own.)

Skiing (hold the crying)

Will and I hit the road yesterday and headed up to Hunter Mountain, just about 2 hours north of the city, for a day of skiing.

This may sound like a fairly mundane activity, save for the fact that the words "let's go skiing" send me into fits of terror so profound that never has a bigger pit grown in a stomach.

Will grew up skiing constantly, so he cannot comprehend this fear. The fear of jamming your feet into the world's most torturously uncomfortable boots and then locking them into two slippery boards pointed DOWN A MOUNTAIN. This sounds ridiculous, right? I agree.

The last time "we" went "skiing" was New Year's Eve 2009 at West Mountain near Saratoga, NY. It was freezing cold, snowing and windy, and not my ideal was of ringing in the new year:

Ski Trip from Robin Reed on Vimeo.

But yesterday I started with a lesson built for a three year old: "french fries" to go down the mountain, "pizza" to stop. Really basic, but it gave me a couple of hours to get comfortable on the silly little slippery sticks and not feel like I was just careening out of control.

After the lesson, I went down the little hill about four or five times. Then we had a little sushi for lunch (on a mountain. Crazy!) and then I went out with Will. This is where the whole thing nearly came crumbling down.

My biggest fear is the mountain being too steep. I don't want to go fast. I find it terrifying.

We get off the lift and I ski down to where the trail begins. I'm nervous, but it seems ok so far. We go down a little bit and it's fine.

I can't believe it, but it's fine.

And then it starts to get steep.

And I look at Will as if he just kicked a puppy in the gut.

And then it takes me about 15 minutes to go about 100 yards. In severe pizza mode going side to side across the entire trail. Poor Will, too, looked as if he knows I saw him kick that puppy.

But I made it. I went down that trail three times, and each time it got easier and easier. It didn't look pretty, I'm sure, but I'm starting to feel like I can at least medal in chair lift.

So. That was that. Three runs down the one-step-above-the-bunny-hill trail and it was just before 4pm, the time when the mountain closes. Will took one more run down the crazy mountain and it was all hot chocolate and stretching out feet after that.

I can't believe I'm about to say this, but I might actually be looking forward to going again.

Hey, Tough Guy!

Bootcamp, Schmootcamp, folks. Until I can run through fire, I'm just a plain old girl.

Boston.com has got photos of the 2010 Tough Guy Challenge, an insane event that takes place in England. I remember seeing photos from last year's TGC, especially the one of this particularly memorable chap.

It looks like there are even ladies competing in the Tough Guy. I am not afraid to say it: these gals are certainly WAY tougher than me. All that mud? No thank you, very much.