A morning quickie before work...

When I awoke this morning to a thick blanket of virgin white snow glowing under the morning’s full moon, did I think of heading into the office early? Nay. (yes, I did just use “nay” seamlessly in a sentence) Upon seeing the thin dusting of wet snow under the dull glow of the morning overcast sky, I thought of the possibility of snow being up on Black Mo. I scampered out of bed, grabbed a banana, yak trax, skis and way too much warm clothing and hopped into the car heading out to the promise land called Black Mo.

As I slid my way up and over Purdue Mt and up the sinuous road of Black Mo, which was yet to be deflowered by a snowplow, I reminisced of my first “attempt” at cross-country skiing. In this attempt, despite tremendous effort, concentration, and dedication to forward motion, I was rewarded with sliding backward. Needless to say, this debacle was remedied by the removal of my skis and good old run to the car. This walk down memory lane was soon interrupted with driving conditions that were ironically similar to my first cross country ski results, calling greater focus to continuing to forward motion.

Arriving in Black Mo, I found the conditions for which I hoped. Everything was white: a white blanket of fresh on the ground, the sticky white clinging to every inch of the bare trees and bushes, even the sky reflected this white theme (I guess a blue sky would have been more idyllic, but the uniformity of color is at least respectable). I popped on the skis and away I went!

I wish I could describe myself gliding miraculously down the trail with childlike giggles ringing in my glorious wake, but nay. I would say I was more similar to drunk adolescent trying as hard as he can to appear sober before his parents, all the while displaying a general underlying sloppiness accented with periodic disastrous stumbles. I would like to attribute my xc skiing impotence on the “hidden tire ruts,” but that would just be making excuses, even though there were hidden tire ruts, honest. My experience reminded me of my first mountain bike ride, but with less flips over the handlebars. Part of me was really enjoying it and another part of me was trying very hard to suppress the growing frustration with my sloppiness.

Sliding all over the road made me think about all the new activities that I have adopted into my life. All these first experiences proved very similar to today: enjoyment of performing the activity and slight frustration at my inability to actually perform the activity. Despite this initial inefficacy, there has always been something that makes me stay with it. For road biking, it was the idea of going fast and covering big miles solely under my own power; for running, it was to impress a girl (just kidding...) it was (also) to experience the simplicity of motion without any other machine and seeing how hard I can push; for mountain biking, it was to be able to experience this thing that everyone who does it loves; for climbing, it was to be a bad ass; and now for cross country skiing, it is to become an aerobic juggernaut (yea, I have now used both “nay” and “juggernaut” seamlessly in sentences). Regardless of the initial motivation, for all these activities I recognized the essence of “quality” for each sport. In this, it is my desire to truly experience the essence of quality (and be a bad ass, aerobic juggernaut, that under his own power can put up big miles enjoying what everyone else does, all while most importantly impressing the girl) that pushes me to keep heading down this (heavily rutted) trail in the opposite direction from my car until I get the hang of this, or at least stop falling down.

Leaving the snowy promise land and heading back into the muddy wet valley, I feel satisfied with today’s effort. While my form was sloppy, I did manage to move forward. As Bill Murray says, “Baby steps.” Now, while I sit at my desk, procrastinating real work, I am thrilled at the idea that I got to spend all morning in the snowy winter woods. This experience has left me with two final thoughts: (1) I really wish I had brought my camera, and (2) is it lunch time yet?