The cold snap has risen, jumping from -9 yesterday morning to 22 today. The sun is out. Hawks patrol the skies. Vermin burrow for roots and nuts. And the novel writing is going well. So I dug out the XC skis, put in contacts, topped my head with my funny tassel hat, and pointed myself down hill.

XC … for the unknowning numpties … is best when you have tracks to ski on. I had to make my own tracks today, so my pace was slow going out toward the numb-fuck farmers ice fishing out toward the center of the lake. I made it about a 1/3 of a mile, turned around so I could cruise on those tracks, and got up a good ski pace.

I was so refreshed when I got back to the dock that I decided to keep up the workout. So I performed a step-over and headed back out on those firm tracks. Now I was cooking!

Passing the end point from the first run, I pushed on at least twice as far, nearly to the fishing farmers. My legs and arm muscles burned! I made a long loop so that when I come out in the future I have a good track. Then I really put some hip and shoulder into the trek back.

I’m exhausted. I need brandy. More brandy.

a MARK self portrait (©2008, all rights reserved)