Loss of vision does not equal loss of fun.

Want to get a completely new perspective on life AND a workout at the same time? Want two days to go by so fast you can't believe it's Wednesday already?

Teach a blind kid how to cross-country ski!

That's what I've been doing for the past two days. I was paired with David Hammond, a completely blind student from Washington State School for the Blind. I got to help him ski around Teacup Sno-Park, and then helped lead a lesson on tree growth for him and the rest of the kids at night.

That kid is SO brave. I've tried closing my eyes and skiing before, and I get so anxious that I'm going to run into something that I lose my balance after about ten seconds. But after some practice, he just zipped down hills, singing the fight songs to every university on earth. Including "The Eyes of Texas" (which we decided is certainly creepy beyond belief).

Also, blind kids have good aim with snowballs. Don't make a sound or they will peg you in the face.

It must be a little nerve-wracking, coming into a situation you've never been in before, having contraptions strapped to your feet that you can't see, that make the ground slippery and that stick out to some untold distance in front of and behind you, and being told, "This is Hillary, she's going to help you learn to ski today." He doesn't know what I look like, whether I'm trustworthy or even if I know what I'm doing. Once again, such a brave kid.

And talk about a lesson in communication! Here's a typical few minutes on the track from the last two days:

Me: "Dave, I'm right here. Are you tired?"

Dave: "No, I want to go up again and then get hot chocolate."

Me: "Okay, come over here so we can get you in the tracks. Oh, your right ski is crossed on top of your left ski, so pick up the right ski... and then move the left one a little farther left so that you can keep turning to your left. There you go. Okay come towards me a few more feet... okay stop. Now you're diagonal on top of the tracks, and the fronts of your skis are off of the groomed part and in powder. I want you to turn your skis to your left so you are facing uphill so that we can get you in the track, but it might be hard because your tips are in powder. Keep going, a little more. Stop. Now step your right foot sideways. There you go. Now can you find the other track? You got it! Let's go!"

Dave: "Did I do really good?"

Me: "Definitely. And right now I can't keep up with you, you're going so fast."

Dave: "Are we going uphill now?"

Me: "Yup, we're about 100 yards from the top."

Dave: "What was that?"

Me: "That's Janet and Jackie coming down the hill in the opposite direction."

Dave: "HI JACKIE!!"

Jackie: "Hello, David."

Dave: "Are we at the top?"

Me: "Not yet."

Dave: "What was your mom's name again?"

Me: "She has two first names, Margaret and Jordan, but she goes by Jordan."

We continue talking about family, or music, or TV, or politics (the guy knows a lot) for a few minutes. Then we turn around to get in the track going downhill and then he makes me time him.

So basically, there was never ever down time. Did I mention the first day was 13 hours long and the second one started at 5:30am? I am tired.

Now I just got back from a Master Recycling class (my choice) that I barely stayed awake through and now I'm going to sleep.

Oh, I hiked and climbed and hung out with people this weekend. Same as usual. Oh, and I've been in the paper twice since Sunday. Crazy. That is all.

That's me in the back carrying his jacket, and with the giant glasses (which helped some partially sighted kids recognize me)