There is a limit to my Minnesota boosterism.  No longer able to scoff at the snowbirds who flee for warmer climes, Laura and I went to Fort Myers for a long weekend.  It wasn’t so much the brutal cold or the piles of snow over our heads (really, I’m not exaggerating); for me, it was the ice.

I was out running the other day.  Knowing I had time to cross a street in front of a car (that also had a stop sign) I sprinted onto a slight decline. My feet flew out in front of me and I went sprawling – the cartoon-like fall, where your legs fly up in the air, your back and head hit the pavement, and you get up seeing those circles of stars.  And I went skidding on my back about 20 feet.  It was the kind of fall where passersby stop to make sure you are ok.  I was – only my pride and backside were a bit sore.  Fortunately, it was so cold I was well padded.

Then it happened to my car.  Stopped at an intersection, the driver behind me didn’t allow sufficient stopping distance – completely smashing my rear bumper.  I was unhurt, but annoyed – more by the inconvenience than with the person who hit me.  Oh, and it was about 10 degrees below zero as we were standing by the side of the street exchanging insurance information.

So, we went to Florida.  This was our first time in Fort Myers and I have to say, I’m a fan.  We played on the beach, played in the water, went for boat rides, and went to see the Twins play spring training baseball.  And we went paddle boarding.

Having never paddle boarded before, Laura and I went with a guided tour through the mangrove swamps.  It was great, and we were pretty good at it.  So good, in fact, that our guide decided we were ready for the open water.  We carried our boards from the swamps to the Gulf and tried our luck over the waves.  No problem – as I learned later, I intuitively understood the trick – don’t look down, look forward.  Or, as it was presented as advice from a surfer to a friend in Hawaii:  “dude, look straight ahead.”  Thank you zen-master surfer dude.

The real test came when a large boat went by.  I rode out the wakes no problem, but, cocky with my success, when the sea calmed again, I lost my balance and tumbled into the water.  Not in a graceful, gymnastic sort of a way – more in a “hit every body part on the paddle board on the way down” sort of way.

That was how, having avoided bruises in two Minnesota ice-related incidents, I returned from sunny, ice-free Florida, not tan, but black and blue.