There's a not insignificant list of things that a lot of people I know take for granted but I think are mystifyingly challenging. It's like when I was 16 and failed my driver's test and kept looking at all these people who drove, and thought, am I really stupider than *all* of these people? And that's pretty much what cross-country skiing felt like, for a long time.
It just seemed everyone in the whole world was better at it than I was (and I was into sweeping generalizations - I included people who had never left the tropics in my list of people who were better skiiers than me. When I suck, I like to really suck. Or at least blow it out of proportion.)
We lived in a rural part of northern Ontario. No public transit. No soccer mom attitudes either. So, if you wanted to go anywhere, you had to learn to drive. Just because you felt dumber than all the people who had licenses didn't mean that you could just say, no! not doing that! drive me! And a driver's license ensued. I didn't really see why I couldn't do that with skiing. I'm ok with not being very good at it - they'll sell me the trail pass without a skills test. I just haven't yet been ok with going with other people - I'll slow them down, they'll overload me with advice, they'll realize I'm so terrible that they'll conclude I'm an outdoors fraud... long list of excuses. I really only agreed to go with Lorenz earlier this winter because if it wasn't that, he might have made me slide to my death on downhill skis. That, and he promised he sucked too, and he showed me his waxless skis as evidence of sucking.
And of course, I had big fun - and that day, everything was perfect, and there was gliding and there was swooshing past other people and sure, there was probably a lot of sucking, but I didn't care. And shortly after that, I continued not to care in Norway. But that's about it, with my careless attitude this winter, because it's been the winter of no winter. So I took the opportunity to go one more time this past weekend (minus Lorenz, he was back to throwing himself down the mountain). My first attempt was at Scenic Caves, site of my previous triumph (read: whining about potentially dying on very gentle downhills, realizing, hey, I didn't die, gleefully skiing back up and sliding down again). Problem is, Scenic Caves really does cater to beginners (like me!). And conditions were not good - icy, deteriorating tracks. Worse, people had walked and snowshoed on the tracks in places. There were no grooming goons to enforce anything! There were, however, many small children, and parents who liked to ski *beside* said children. Which is understandable, but somewhat dangerous for me when I'm hurtling down an icy hill, and it made it difficult to pass. (Did you catch that? I *passed* people. I don't care that they were three feet high, on average, they had skis on, and I passed them.)
Day 2, I tried Highlands Nordic, aka Duntroon. I was on my way home, and I was just going to do a quick loop. I settled on the yellow. How hard can it be to follow yellow arrows? Except, there was one spot where there was a cluster of people. And I think they were clustered around the trail signage. I don't know, because my response to clumps like that is to run away very quickly. And there was this conveniently big hill to ski down. And I did that, and I didn't wipe out, though the tracks were icy and I picked up a bit more speed than I cared for.
But then, the next trail markers I came to, they were red and orange together. And I realized, the orange is not much longer than the yellow, and no way am I going back up that hill (I was wax challenged. 
Temperature indicated violet. Conditions indicated klister in many spots). So, on I skiied, I was having fun. Until I realized, I haven't seen a trail marker in a long time. And I no longer see other trails. And I don't see other skiiers either - in the next half hour, one skater passed me, that was it. I wasn't exactly surprised to see a lone red trail marker at some point. Sigh. How hard is it to follow a yellow - or, failing that, an orange arrow? Seriously! I bet it's easier than passing a driving test! Somehow, though, I skiied the big loop. And, somewhere on that loop, I was on another long downhill, and I didn't step out of the classic track onto the skating side, and on the ice, I got too fast. And then I got a little bit faster. And then there was a curve. And then the lone skater passed me and was very concerned about me being ok. I think the head first in the snowdrift position I was in prompted that. I spit out the snow, and I smiled (relieved to have all my teeth, and no bloody lip) and sent him on his spandexed way. And then I did what I should have done all along: I got onto the skating side, and I practiced the inelegant but highly effective braking on steep icy slopes that "the man who introduced sit-on-poles braking to Canada", as he would like to be credited, had told me about. No more faceplants, and I didn't have to resort to the sit on my bum braking technique either (I suspect on the ice, that would have hurt considerably more than it did on powder).
So, shall we sum up:
Johanna. Aged 34. Ontario driving license, Class G. Owner of a set of waxable nordic skis, and blue, violet, red and, since Sunday, end of season sale green wax, plus klister. Unaccomplished skiier, but better than at the beginning of this short season. Still terrified of downhill skiing. Desperately seeking excuse to not have to work on that next weekend (this weekend's excuse? "It's March Break. There are a lot of people on the hill. It's not *safe* for them to have me learn today!". Previous excuses already used: "I'm gonna die", "it's too wet", "it's cold and I don't have goggles".)