Old man winter

Wisdom says to live in the moment and enjoy where we are.  I've spent so much of my life trying to fast forward and get to the next thing, at the expense of the present.  Being outside more than most, I am aware the days are now getting ever so slightly longer.  I walk and run and ski and ride, pushing forward, enjoying the now and looking forward to what tomorrow will bring.  

Yet, there are times when the nights seem endless and, rarely, days that I never feel warm.  The draft from an open door chills my soul.  I touch cold metal and an icy shiver pierces me. 

I am savoring the winter and squeezing all I can from it. I am blessed. I know that. Now and then, when no one is looking, I close my eyes and imagine running or riding on a summer's day with bare arms, my shirt open, sweat on my chest.  

That day will come.  Just not yet. They refer to winter as an old man.  An old man that doesn't care, that has gotten where he is, just by momentum, by pushing for so long that time finally yielded. Winter is that way, simply the accumulation of so many cold days and nights.  No flash, no bang, just cold and water and time. 

Snow dog

              You mean I can go full speed on this straight trail?   Hell yeah!

Kona has been miss and hit on coming when called.  With a solid layer of snow and temperatures perfect for a thin-skinned greyhound, we decided to see if Kona would enjoy running on one of the dog-friendly trails in the Methow.  Lest we forget, Kona was born and raced in Florida.  His first experience with snow in November was not good. What would happen?

                 Where we going? I'm in. Where we going? I'm in. Where we going?

I had promised myself I would take Tux running on the winter trails, but it just never happened.  I felt grief for that and determined not to let it happen to Kona. I figured Tux would approve of taking his young nephew, Kona, in his place.

At the trailhead I readied the fat bike and then brought out Kona on a leash.  After giving him a treat and making sure he knew I had more, I unclipped his leash and we took off.  

I have taken him trail running a few times keeping him on a leash.  That follows a familiar pattern of him pulling like a sled dog the first mile or so and then me dragging him back home. He was a professional racer, now retired exactly one year to the day, but his races were only seventeen seconds long. He did exceed forty miles an hour on those races, but he has yet to figure out the endurance thing.

He sniffed some other dog's pee in the snow and then launched after me and passed at a full gallop. He loved that I could go fast as I clicked down the cassette flying along. The trail stretched out in front of us and he looked back as if to ask if he could just open up.  I cheered him on and he was so happy to run.  He greeted other dogs and ran with them a bit before continuing on his way.  This was heaven for him. 

We then stopped and I took off his coat as his running had generated plenty of heat.  In Florida they would take them in wading pools to cool them off after races.  Without his coat in the sunshine, bounding in full stride he looked like he was born for this life.  He was panting now and his muscles bulging. A skier with his own dog commented on how beautiful Kona was.  I agreed and he said it again, "He is just so beautiful. His markings, his muscles, his smile!"  Kona looked not just fit, but so happy.

We got Kona in the age of COVID and he loves dogs and people and having everyone and every dog keeping their distance was torture for this social creature.  Being able to greet people and dogs and run free was what this guy has been dreaming about for eight months. 

After less than two kilometers I stopped and told Kona we should start heading back. He looked further down the trail and only reluctantly turned west and followed me. His strides now were bouncy and he was slower as we headed towards the trailhead. The shadows now reached the trail and the distractions of urine and holes in the snow had a greater pull than they had on the way out.  My chain was on the other end of the cassette wrapped around the big cogs. 

I was now coaxing him along with treats and we were no longer passing skiers, but just holding our place among the groups heading back.  He was spent and it was an effort to just go faster than a walk. 

                             In the shadows of Virginia Ridge.  

As we neared the parking lot I clipped his leash back on. When we got to the car he jumped in and flopped down on his bed while I secured the bike.  The day could not have gone any better.  He kind of minded me. The treats gave him a reason to stay close and he played well with other dogs, which I fully expected. He didn't leave the trail chasing a bunny or other small mammal off in the woods. 

Pacing?  We will leave that to another day.

On the drive back we declared success and Kona asked if we could do it again soon.

            We stopped by Methow Trails and got him an annual pass.                                                              Yes Kona, we will do it again!

                        Then we went home and both enjoyed a fine dinner                                                             (Kibble for him, Pizza for Hottie and me)

                         This is what happy looks like a couple hours later.

Castelli Thermal Pro Skully Cap Review

                                             This is what it looks like.

It sucks.  Really.  "How can such a thin cap keep you warm?"  It can't.  There may be some comically narrow temperature range where it is useful, but cycling clothing needs to be versatile and this fails the test.   Don't buy it and if you want mine, let me know and I don't like you, it is yours.