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.
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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.