One thrust after the next, it was a synchronized ballet of balance, power, and finesse. Each ski held his weight and moved forward through the deep snow, progressing only from the engine his mind, heart, and body would provide.
He craves these moments of true solitude. Far enough out across the frozen lake to restrict any thoughts of retracement, cold and windy enough to limit this tundra to himself and the dogs, and completely quiet, save for the rhythmic schuss keeping time.
He wonders about the relationship of time and miles. Do our bodies, like a long owned good truck, begin to show the wear and tear of the years (as in day in and day out) or rather the saddle soars of the many traveled miles (as in rode hard and put away wet?) Is it a challenge to move our bodies around this land as far as possible before Father Time pulls our plug?
He stands naked in the full length mirror. He sees the miles accumulating. Yet he also sees the understanding that youth, though fleeting, is really necessary to have and experience in order to arrive at this point. This moment trumps the rest because the next step carries with it the experience of all the previous. He did not have that when he first set out. And his errors and omissions reveal the scars.
The present though has a way of focusing our minds and spirits on itself. For with each thrust forward from his hip, he enjoys the next glide, highlighting the perfect balance of effort and reward.
Ahhh….the winter moment.
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