Well somewhat north. I have just arrived home in Alaska for a short stay over Christmas. The past week racing in Canada has been interesting, and I’ll ramble about it soon, but not now. As I sit inside with my cup of tea I look out to see a bit of a winter wonderland.
I saw the token hippie Nordic skier stride down the snow-covered road on my way up the drive. It cracked me up a bit to see long dreads whipping about beneath a fuzzy knit cap, classic Girdwood I suppose. I do love seeing people from every walk of life wandering around, from those skiing on old three-pins to those on the new feather weight, gold plate base turbo skis. At the end of the day we ski for ourselves, not only for a win someday (not that I would be particularly disappointed with it). When I’m all alone and revering every moment, the simple stillness interrupted only by the curious squirrel and wandering snowflake. Or the occasion I get to ski with someone who I’ve missed sorely and I spend the entire ski (and coffee afterwards) out of breath from too much chatter and laughter. It’s every day that I feel more fortunate than the commuters creeping through traffic at 8:00 am and again at 5:00 pm. Poor guys. Mmm, to be out there day after day.
Off topic (again), I know. Standard. But that’s how my mind usually works…drifting (sometimes jumping) from moment to memory… and so on.