It was freaking freezing today at the mountain. Negative ten is what I heard – I don’t know for sure because my phone was frozen.
My feet were so cold and they never get cold. Never! I have special boot heaters installed in my ski boots and I keep them cranked up. I pride myself on never having to go in and warm up. Never!
On one chairlift ride, my friend told me about a guy he knew who had to have “chunks” of his toes removed because of really bad frost bite. Apparently his toes went purple and that’s when frost bite is really bad – irreversibly bad. I spent the rest of the very long lift ride wondering if my numb toes were turning purple.
My feet were so numb for the rest of the day that I was skiing from memory, more than from actually feeling the work feet were doing.
My feet were so cold that when I finally removed them from my ski boots, I honestly couldn’t feel anything. My ski boots are not easy to take off – they are race boots that I have to pry off in a process that usually involves cursing and a lot of pain. To do all that and not feel any of it was unnerving.
After I finally got my feet out of my ski boots and shoved into my regular snow boots (I didn’t dare look at them yet) I hobbled across the parking lot to a friends’ car. My feet were still so numb that’s what I did–I hobbled. It’s a really strange sensation to walk around with totally numb feet.
Despite the cold, we barbecued hot dogs and sausages, and had birthday cake, and told stories for a few more hours, all of us shifting our weight from one foot to another, staying as warm as we could. It was a clear, sunny cold day. The kind of day that seems warm-ish if you are just standing still with all your layers on. But as soon as you take your hand out of your mitten you realize – nope – still super cold out.
When I got home and took off my socks, I closed my eyes for a moment, half expecting a purple toe or two. Everything was fine. Just some cold feet.