Maxed Out 

A piece of Canada's skiing heritage

Page 3 of 3

Now all I had to contend with was waxing. Jackrabbit was right about wax-no wax skis. Waxing was one of those universally recognized things that separated the men from the boys. Like so many other things that perform that function, the arguments for and against were firmly grounded in incomprehensible bullshit. But real men waxed. I waxed.

There are 273 different theories on waxing cross-country skis. None of them work. The immutable interplay of physics and meteorology work relentlessly to ensure you will need a wax, or combination of waxes, you either don’t have or one with completely opposite attributes to the one you just spent 15 minutes applying. It is no wonder today, now that mankind has finally unravelled the mysteries of skinny skis and waxless skis have won out, you can still buy 29 different formulations of wax and virtually no new skis on which to apply them.

Apathy and inertia, the two guiding principles in my life, have kept me from replacing those skis. I’ve given passing thought to buying new skate skis but I can’t shake the feeling skate skis are another wax-no wax black hole. Still, they seem like they’re more fun and they fit the True Guy criteria for dealing with apathy and inertia: New Gear.

But it makes me uncomfortable when I only see people dressed in spandex on them. Maybe next season.

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