Finally we seem to have come upon some winter.
It’s been a weird sort of year for weather. Maybe that’s just my anecdotal bias, but it’s nearly the end of January as I write this and we just finally — FINALLY — have accumulated enough of the white stuff to dig our cross country skis from the basement and wax them up for the first time this season. The kid was back into it like a riding a bike, of course. At one point we thought she’d bailed as we turned back and she wasn’t following us, but no… she’d found her own route and was heading us off from a different direction.
Not that a mid-winter blizzard is all fun and games. I’ve been struggling through my efforts to get in a daily run against the brutal conditions. Oh, galloping through fresh snow is great — for the first five minutes. The air is crisp and the wind hasn’t been too bad, but trying to find footing in fifteen centimeters of fresh powder on an uneven sidewalk in the dark while you’re squinting against the cold… that’s a whole new level of crazy.
On Sunday morning, despite the freaking cold and even more fresh snow, I peer-pressure-caved into a crazy (probably literally) trail run in the river valley. It started off mildly sane with just the cold and the trail against us, but soon devolved into an ankle deep, is-this-actually-a-trail run through the woods. My shoes built up so much snow inside them that I ended up numbing and then causing some impact damage to the point of black toenail syndrome and a really sore digit. But the photos turned out great.
Having just barely warmed up I joined the party at the K&D house where we’d had a plan in place to tackle some serious sledding. So the hill wasn’t quite as epic as one might imagine, but the kids had a blast racing through the fresh powder despite the bitter cold.