First snowflake!

I went out for a run alongside the river with our dog, the Duke of Orinoko, or just Noko. The sky was gray, the air was chilly, the tree branches were bare, the squirrels were busy dashing here and there to do their final stocking up for winter, and, quite frankly, it was kind of a dismal scene. Just when I thought I would turn around and head home for a cup of tea, I caught a glimpse of something white out of the corner of my eye. Could it be a snowflake? Yes! There was another one! That means ski season will be here soon, so I ran a bit longer, with a more of a bounce in my stride, in anticipation of being out on my skis again. 

To skiers to make much of time

O, Glorious Day! O beloved Fargo Parks groomers! It is March 26th, and Mother Nature has blessed us with more snow, now formed into lovely byways for skiers. Sublime season, cheating the melting of spring to slide forth once again and ply our poles over the kilometers, kicking and gliding in ecstasy, treasuring the moment, knowing it could be the last as the mighty Red River of the North awakes from her slumber to send forth the flood, immersing our transient tracks yet again. But until then, we make haste while the sun shines.

21 Squirrels, about a squirrel per kilometer today

Ok, so yesterday wasn't my last ski after all. It was 29 degrees this morning, so I thought I'd check out the classic trail. Also, I was curious about the length of the trail, and now that I have an iPhone, I can use the Runtastic app to find out. It uses GPS to map your route and calculate the distance. It turns out from my door, to I-94, then back north to the dike and home again is 20.5 kilometers. It took me an hour and 7 minutes to do the whole thing at a leisurely pace. Last week I did it in 55 minutes, really pushing it the whole way. Today, I counted squirrels--they were so BUSY. Most of them were running between the river bank and the trees. What are they doing? Going down to get a drink of water? Probably not, since many of the bigger trees now have puddles around their bases. Sunbathe? Nibble on grass exposed by the sun melting the south-facing side of the riverbank? Does anyone know?

In other animal news along the river, I saw a flock of 19 crows perched in a huge tree on the Moorhead site south of Gooseberry Park. I also saw something very interesting between 9th Ave and 13th Ave--a couple of holes in the snow leading right down to the river. I skied over to one, and it was all dark and watery inside. Is this where the beaver or river otter comes out? I can't believe I hadn't noticed this before.

The river is higher today. It is up to the docks at 13th Ave and just a foot or two shy of the banks in some spots. There is a 30% chance of this year's flood exceeding the "500 year flood" of 2009. I can still see bits of debris in the trees from the 2010 flood. The generous snows that have made this such an excellent ski season now transform to agents of destruction in the coming weeks. Again, as I ski, I imagine all of this trail being underwater soon, and I think about skiing through water, each stride and pole push like a swimming stroke. It feels so real, swimming and skiing share some similar sensations. Push and glide, stoke and flow.

The snow bridges over the bike trail are now ice bridges, and I predict that after today's melt, they will be gone. 

A morning ski on March 15th--last one?

Went out for a skate ski at 9:15am this morning. It is warm and the forecast calls for above freezing temperatures with a 40% chance of rain, so this could be my last ski. Another sign--I saw several squirrels running about. I wonder if they know the flood is coming and are moving their nuts to higher ground?

The trail was in decent shape, a bit icy in spots, minor drifts in others. I got into the flow and soon forgot about trail conditions. I wanted to ski all day, it was that good. Saw only one old couple walking their dog. Peaceful and quiet, overcast. The bridge connecting Lindenwood Park in Fargo with Gooseberry Park in Moorhead has been raised up high to get ready for the flood. In looking up at it, I remember how, in 2009, the bridge was partially immersed in the water. Strange to look up and think that I would be underwater if I stayed here another week or two. Until Mother Nature's voice wakes us and we drown.

Having skied here nearly every day over the last four months, each tree, each bend in the trail is so familiar to me, and it will all be immersed in the deluge. What else is washed away when this happens?

The end of the ski season always makes me so sad. Most people are happy when spring comes, but for me, the early part of that season includes melancholy. 

The skate trail near the water treatment plant, heading south.

The skate trail by the fishing docks near 13th Ave S, facing north.

Self Portrait on Friday, March 10, 2011.

Blustery Friday morning skate ski

The kids had the day off school, so I stayed home with them in the morning while Enrico went to work. We cleaned the house vigorously for a couple of hours, then I took a break to go for a skate ski. Already the day was warming up. It was sunny and a blizzard was expected in the late afternoon, so I thought I should take advantage of the newly groomed skate trail before it disintegrated or got blown over. I started out with high hopes of a fun ski, but already the warmer temperatures were causing the snow to melt and this saturated top layer pulled at my skis. It was like trying to push through pancake syrup. After turning around at Dike West, I found my challenge was really just beginning as I was pushed back by strong gusts of wind, once missing a pole plant as the wind pushed my lightweight pole backwards. This would be a grind! But I persevered, traversing the trail to its conclusion in Lindenwood Park and then back home. Exhausted, I showered and then took a quick nap before taking the kids to the Y for the afternoon while I went to work. Will look forward to a hearty meal with the "Table of 8" tonight.

Thursday misty morning ski (with a gift)

Already, one can ski for a week longer than last year, so I'm determined to make the most of it. Enrico took the kids to school while I waxed up my classic skis and headed down to the river. I wanted to use my new iPhone and the Runtastic app to track the entire classic trail for distance. I thought I might as well also time myself and see if I can make my first ski of next season as fast or faster than what could be my last ski of this season. I started out at 7:50am. There was plenty of light, the ski was overcast, and there was a bit of mist hanging in the bare branches of the grand trees by the river. When I got down to the skate trail, I was surprised to find that Fargo Parks had groomed it! That hadn't been done for a couple of weeks, and one reason I chose to skate today was that it had become increasingly more difficult to skate as we got more snow, until, last weekend, I had only been able to do it because I was helped by Noko assisting me.

When I got to the classic trail, it, too, had been set! I smiled broadly. This would make my personal challenge more fun. My SWIX special blue wax afforded just enough kick. I had to use good technique to keep from slipping. Starting out at a fast pace, I soon told myself to take time to warm up a bit before trying so hard. I'm not in my 20s anymore; I really should warm up a bit. Listening to Icky Thump on my iPod helped me to keep to a steady rhythm at the beginning. I thought about how bringing my heart rate up helps me to generate enough warmth to feel comfortable in this frigid environment. When I reached that nice equilibrium in which my body can be at one with the environment, I stopped to stretch a bit. I love being out here when no one is around. I feel connected to something larger than myself and slip into a meditative state, startled only by the caw of a crow. At the I-94 bridge, I turned back and from time to time my flow was interrupted with a sense of hurting a bit. I was pushing myself just to the edge of being uncomfortable. As I neared home, I was a large bird flying toward me. At first I thought it was a turkey buzzard, but as it passed right over my head and I arched my back to watch, I felt a delicious thrill as I recognized the white hood of this impressive bird--a bald eagle!

What a gift with which to end my ski and begin the day. 

New sparkly snow!

We got several inches of featherlight snow overnight--everything looks fresh and sweet. I waited until the afternoon to ski, when the sun came out, and had a magical ski through the new snow, marveling at all the sparkly crystals floating through the air. I made the first tracks on the skate trail, completing a circuit in about 35 minutes. I went home, harnessed up Noko, and brought him out for a ski too. He was so happy! We went up to the Main bridge first, then turned around and went down, almost to the rocks. Noko sat down. He did not want to do the whole trail; he wanted to go home, so we headed back. I saw only one person out skiing the whole time--an older man in a red coat. Noko did not lunge at him. He was perfectly behaved today. This is our third day in a row skijoring together, and I think he has figured out that we will have a fun time if he behaves.

I've discovered the only thing more fun that crust skiing--crust skiing with a dusting of lightweight snow on top. We could go anywhere, weaving in and out of trees, on or off the skate trail. For a couple of hours before sundown, the Red River corridor was our secret, sunny, sparkly playground.  What a treat!

post-melt icy ski

Work won out over skiing this week as I slogged through several 11-13 hour workdays, but after a few hours in the office on Saturday, the trails were calling me, so I grabbed my skate skis to check out the trails by the river around 4pm. No softening of the icy crust. It was pretty crappy skiing, thanks to the guy with big feet and the various dogs who had pummeled the trail when it was mushy, their indentations frozen. After checking out the scene, I ran back to the house to get Noko. He seemed a bit antsy, and with the icy conditions, his paws would not leave a dent on the skate trail, so I harnessed him up and held on. Sure enough, all his pent-up energy translated into fast forward motion, as I tried desperately to stay upright. Skating at high speed is good for my reflexes, right? Several near-falls made me tense, so I had to consciously relax my body. On the way back from Lindenwood, he eased up a bit, and I could skate more. Unfortunately, he made a sudden stop to take a dump, and I had forgotten plastic bags, so after taking him home, I had to jog back and clean up his poop. I thought, "Well, it is time to transition to running, anyway." My shins now hurt. I hope we get new snow. It is too early for the good skiing to be over.

Monday afternoon skate ski with ski club members

Since I would be hosting the Prairie's Edge Nordic Ski Club board meeting at my house this evening, I invited club members to join me for a pre-meeting ski. The Haugens and Jeff arrived, and we walked to the end of 9th Avenue, climbed over the dike, and headed for the skate trail. With two days of warm temperature, the trail was unpredictable. Also, someone with an enormous dog had walked on it, so it was a bit pock-marked from their steps. It was cooling down this evening, cooler than yesterday, and parts of the trail that had been out of the sun for awhile were already icy. Other parts, like the bend near Gooseberry Park that gets a lot of sun and the turnaround that had not had as many passes by the groomer were mushy and our skate skis sunk in. However, it was just good to be outside and be with company. We stopped every so often to chat. This kind of social skiing is something I did a lot of in Alaska, and I miss it. I remember skiing with Sarah Swift Masterman in particular. We had a rhythm of skiing fairly hard, and then stopping to chat until our heart rates went down a bit and then starting up again, kind like doing natural intervals. Pleasant. 

Post-snowshoe skijor

After snowshoeing for a couple of hours in the brilliant Sunday sunshine with Denise Lajimodiere and then warming up over a bowl of potato-leek soup, my dog Noko looked at me with those sad eyes. I am a sucker for sad eyes, and there was a tiny bit of light left, so I put him in his harness, and we went for a little skijor.

It started out fine, but soon he was breaking through the snow every few strides. It was an awful lot of work for him. Once we got in the trees, he was able to stretch out a bit. I appreciated the wider trail from our snowshoeing earlier in the day; it gave me a bit more maneuverability when I needed to shift my weight or make a mini snowplow to slow down when Noko sunk in the snow.

As the twilight faded, I barely made out three skiers coming in the opposite direction in the classic tracks closer to the river. After waiting for them to gain some distance, I turned around so that Noko could chase after them. He always pulls harder if he is trying to catch up to someone. From their silhouettes and skiing style, I surmised it was three members of the Gaba family.
"Hello!" I called.
"Vijay Gaba here--is that Kelly?"
"Yes! Great night for a ski, isn't it?"
"Yes, thank you," replied Vijay.
"Well, have a good ski!"
It is difficult to have a good conversation from so far away, and now that Noko had pulled up abreast of them, I wanted to keep him moving so he didn't veer off the trail. "On by!" I shouted. He continued on. We made it back home without any injury. 

Second Saturday Ski was Ski-joring with Noko

I woke up from a nap, and it was utterly quiet in the house. No one was there except Noko, our one-year-old Black Lab/Australian Shepherd/Pointer/St. Bernard mutt. I had not taken him skiing all week, and my husband was getting tired of doing it. With one hour of daylight left, I decided it was time for us to get outside together. He didn't want to get the harness on at first, so I rewarded him with a little treat. We headed out on our own special trail that I've been maintaining this winter, first with snowshoes, and then with regular outings. Parts of it were snowblown, so we broke trail a bit on the way out. Noko was happy to be outside. I'm sure all the smells he enjoys so much were more pungent in today's warmer temperatures. This caused lots of stops and pauses on the way out. On the way back, Noko stretched out and ran hard. It was all I could do to stay on our narrow trail. I now thanked that yoga teacher who makes us do a million chair poses because that was the stance I took as I tried not to catch a tip in the deeper snow. We were flying!

It is a good day that begins, and ends, with a ski. 

A quickie morning skate ski

After yoga with Twyla at the Y this morning, I was feeling all flexy, and I thought maybe I could sneak in a quickie--a skate ski before meeting my UND colleague, Kim Donehower, at Nicole's for an early lunch. So. . .  I entered the house, peeling off yoga clothes and putting on ski clothes in fluid motions. (My husband was still asleep, and the kids were still in bed). Just a few minutes later, I was out the door, the beat of "Wipe Out" was playing on my iPod. A sparkly, sunny day with an expected high above freezing, I knew this was the perfect time to enjoy a skate ski, as the trail had softened slightly in the thawing temperatures, yielding gently to the strokes of my skis, but not yet mooshy and past its prime, like the banana everyone ignored all week. After 8 days of cold conditions and slow snow, I nearly fell backwards on setting ski to trail because the snow was so fast. I hoped my heart was warmed up enough from yoga, because conditions begged me to ski as fast as I could, racing t up to the dam, down to Lindenwood, back up to the dam, and back home in about 35 minutes. There were lots of people out skiing already, and I smiled and waved at each one. "Great day for a ski!" I shouted. I could not stop smiling, even though my heart rate was near the max. I entered the "puke zone" just as I mounted the tiny rise before the turn off back to our street. 

Wild Turkeys in the Rosy-Fingered Dawn

After my husband took my kids to school, I checked the temperature--fourteen below zero. Maybe I have a sore throat today, maybe I shouldn't ski, but it has been three days, and I am getting cranky, so I start preparing--red long underwear top, fleece jacket, Marmot goretex jacket; long underwear and windpants, Smartwool socks. My iPod, earmuffs, Prairie's Edge Nordic Ski Club hat, fleece hood up, fleece neckgaiter on, jacket hood up. I will not have a cold head. And hopefully my earbuds will not need to be adjusted. As usual, I can't find any of my gloves or mittens because the kids have borrowed them, so I dig out my old ragg wool mittens. It will be a good day for them if it is not windy.

I step outside--no wind. That's good. I get my classic skis and walk to the end of the block. After putting on my skis and poles, I scale the dike to access the trails by the Red River of the North that runs between Fargo and Moorhead on it way to Canada.

At 7:15, it is already getting light. The sky is clear and a rosy glow through the frost-covered trees signals that dawn is near. The snow is hard, it has compressed over the past week. It looks used, reminding me that the ski season is winding down. I feel a little jolt of panic--not yet, not yet.

My first few glides are slow. Slow snow, slow body. I remember my first yoga teacher, Teri Viereck, teaching me the "breath of fire." I imagine each breath kindling a fire in my belly to warm me on this morning's ski. It doesn't seem to work at first. I get colder and colder, until I have to stop and swing my arms to get some blood into my fingertips.

Upon rounding the first bend in the river, I see the first tree to catch the morning light, and it has a lot of big black shapes in it. Wild turkeys roosting. When I get closer, I stop and count them--twenty four. They seem too big to be perched so high. They have chosen the tallest tree on that curve of the river, and they are getting the first rays of sunlight on this chilly morning. I have to ski another kilometer before experiencing that pleasure.

I'm on the other side of the oxbow now, and not only is my belly warm, but my joints are feeling oiled by the circulation of blood pumped ever faster. When my body is hit by the first ray of sunshine, I imagine I am at the snow beach, basking in the sun. Why not go all the way to the I-94 bridge? I keep striding and gliding, but notice my feet are getting colder, not warmer, like the rest of my body. As soon as I can see the bridge, I decide to turn back.

The way back goes faster, partly because I'm aware of my feet getting colder. Back at the oxbow, planes of silver at the bottom of each track reflect the now-higher sun. The planes must have been from the slight melting of the smallest layer of snow molecules caused by the friction of my skis on the way out. Maybe this phenomenon also contributes to the greater glide I am getting now? I try to capitalize on the glide by pushing harder, and soon my breath becomes ragged, but my feet are no warmer. I rush up the slope of the dike, take off my skis, and run home. After taking off my socks, I am shocked to see several white spots on my toes and along the sides of my feet.

Showering was agony this morning as those frostbitten parts thawed out.
Off to work.