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Last weekend in Colorado was cold. Frozen-solid nose hairs cold. Don’t leave the house, not even for the hot tub, cold. It was -18 without wind when I woke up Saturday morning, and that’s not even counting the chill in my post-New Year’s Eve heart.
But, I had a friend in town, who’d flown through the East Coast snowpocalypse to get there, so we HAD to go skiing.
So, we booted up and headed out. But, despite my four layers of down, by the time we’d unloaded the first lift my fingers were icicles. Burning icicles sending frozen ribbons of pain up my arms. At least that’s how I remember it.
I complained. I did the huffy penguin dance. I skied with my hands in fists and my poles under my arms, which is great until you need to turn. Finally, I gave up and resigned myself to buying the pansiest of gaper accessories: hand warmers. I plunked down four bucks at the mid-mountain lodge, shook the shit out of them, and stuck ‘em in my gloves.
And nothing happened. I balled my fists around the little sand packets and started thinking about hot drinks. But we decided to take one more run.
As I sat on the lift, trying to suck my whole face inside of my hood, my fingers started to come back to me. Not anything burning or dramatic, just a pleasant, tingly return to circulation, which was enough to get me through to the end of the day, and said hot drinks. So now, even if it’s not very tough, there’s a Costco-sized box of hand warmers in my future.
Between $2 and $7 at your local hill. Or $40 for a pack of 40, which I am totally doing. www.warmers.com