The long walk up

There are some things that are just for adults, no matter how much kids want to try them. We know what they are.

And there are some things that are just for kids, no matter how much adults want to try them. We usually find those out the hard way.

Sledding is one of those things most adults, myself included, should probably never do.

It seems harmless enough. You sit on some small apparatus and physics does the rest, most of which entails sliding down a decent-sized hill at a speed that is probably nowhere near as great as it feels, until grinding to a halt once kinetic friction takes over.

Then comes the part that makes sledding a kid’s game: the climb back up. This is the part that separates the men from the boys, quite literally.

I recently took the heir sledding with a few of his friends at a local hill. To my delight, it was one of those places where you park the car at the top. So the first trudge back up comes after the first ride.

And for many riders, the last ride.

It never occurred to me as a kid that my dad never rode down more than once. In the olden days, when most of us rode Flexible Flyers, toboggans with curled-up fronts, or Clark Griswold-style metal saucers, we used to go to a place called Hawkins Hill in West Akron.

It was a grand old hill, and probably still is. Only if I ventured there now, I’d likely be stunned to find out how small it actually is. When you’re young and wide-eyed, everything is bigger than reality.

We must have gone down that hill 20 or 30 times each visit. Or six or seven. The walk back up was grueling.

Nothing has changed in that regard. My son and his friends went down again and again, and each climb back up was a little more of a chore.

Credit youthful energy, though — they all kept going. Most of the group consisted of kids in the middle of wrestling season. Some do other sports, and many work with trainers once or twice each week.

Long story short, they’re all in pretty tremendous shape.

I am not. Nor are many of the other dads. So we stayed atop the hill and, for the most part, remained spectators.

Would I have enjoyed a trip down? Certainly. I am old and wise, though, and understood the task that would follow was not worth the ride. Not by a long shot.

Unlike my parents, who fled south upon retirement, I have never developed a disdain for snow. I don’t much like driving in it, but I love looking at it.

I also truly appreciate the joy kids get from snow. Whether it’s building something in the yard, sledding or – the snowy grail – missing school, snowy days are among the best parts of childhood.

For many adults, though, snow brings pain and suffering. Shoveling is part of that. Driving is a huge part. Ascending hills after 15-second (if you’re lucky) rides on cheap plastic is at least optional.

I first took my kid sledding six years ago, when he was in kindergarten. He loved it. And I loved that. I liked the sled ride, too, but not the walk back up.

So since then he’s been on his own, which is what friends are for, and he has plenty of those.

I’m happy to stay at the top watching. With my hot chocolate. And peppermint schnapps.

Kids, adults – we can all enjoy a trip to the sled hill.

Here’s to the next big snow.