Divine Diagonal-stride Dawn

After the weekend's snowfall, Fargo Parks groomed the ski trail along the river from Dike West to Lindenwood Park. We finally got enough snow to cover the sticks that had been poking through the trails all season, so I took out my "good" classic skis for a ski this morning before work. I left home just before 7am. The whole circuit took me about 65 minutes from my doorstep, which is quite a bit faster than I was skiing it in December, so that feels good. What I really liked about the first part of my ski were the beautiful colors in the sky. I don't know if you can see it in this photo, but the part of the tracks that has been smoothed by the first few skiers skiing over them is reflecting that lovely pink in the sky. It felt magical to glide along these two rails of ethereal light.

When I turned around at the I-94 bridge, a different sight greeted me--the sun was up. This was also a delightful view. I had a good sweat worked up by then, and the fire in me greeted the fire in the sun. It was an electrifying moment of connection with the natural world. This is why I ski--to feel connected to the earth, to be a part of it, and to really know I am alive.

New Navajo Nordic Skier in the Morning--Unexpected Ski Next to I-29 in Afternoon

We got MORE new snow last night, and this morning, Wahleah Watson came over to learn how to ski. It was a joy to introduce this strong Navajo woman to what I hope will become her new favorite sport (after Crossfit). She took to it immediately--executing step turns with grace and style and figuring out the weight shift right away. It was a perfect day--no wind, warm temperatures, soft new snow, and the clouds cleared and the sun came out while we were out on the trail.

After she left, I packed up the Subaru to head up to Belcourt to lead a workshop for juniors in writing on demand, and I had a full car of stuff to bring to Denise's cabin, since she is clearing out her house in Moorhead. I was zooming along on cruise control at 75 miles per hour about 35 miles north of town. I turned into the left lane to pass a car, but noticed that I wasn't passing, so I tried pushing down on the accelerator, and something weird happened.

It felt like the gas pedal was stuck in the "floor it" position, yet the car was losing speed. I took it out of cruise control, maneuvered back into the right lane, keeping an eye on another car coming up to pass. I continued to lose speed--something serious was wrong, so I pulled over onto the shoulder, and the car died. I smelled something burning, and I could see a bit of smoke coming out from under the hood. I quickly turned off the car. Then I sat there for a moment, wondering if it just needed time to cool off.

The car shook back and forth as traffic rushed by. I was definitely beyond the rumble strips, but I wished I had pulled off further. It was unnerving to feel the car shaking with each passing vehicle. I tried starting the car to move it over more, but there was no response. I called AAA--was going to need a tow home. They said it would be about an hour. I was feeling anxious and I didn't want to be rocking back and forth, so I got out, put on my skis, and just skied up and down the side of the interstate until the tow truck arrived. Skiing is a great stress reliever, and I got a bit of a workout in while I was waiting.

My ski trail leads to the back bumper, which reads "I'd rather be cross-country skiing" 

My wax was perfect for conditions--extra blue--and the sun shone brightly. There was a bit of a breeze, as you can see in my selfie below, but I stayed toasty warm until the tow truck arrived.

Presidents' Day Ski: "Topographical Buddhism"

Today was ten degrees colder than yesterday. And windier. There was no new snow. I worked most of the day at home because it's Presidents' Day, but about 3:30pm, I decided it was time to get outside, even though it did not look very appealing. Enrico, who had been out for a walk earlier, cautioned me to dress warmly and not forget my neck gaiter. 

Once I was bundled up, I headed out, but my legs felt dull. Perhaps I was tired from  the three skis on Saturday and long ski on Sunday, but I just didn't have much spring in my stride. As Sam Anderson writes in a recent NYTimes article, "What Cross-country Skiing Reveals about the Human Condition," cross-country skiing is "notoriously, almost inhumanly, exhausting — a brutally sustained nonthrill." So why would I want to choose to ski as a "break" from all my other work? 

Anderson thinks it is because "cross-country skiers lean right into a bleak truth: We are stranded on a planet that is largely indifferent to us." I can see his point there, especially on a day like today. There's nothing really warm or welcoming about this gray day--the cold temperatures make my skis drag; I don't take any photos today because I don't want to expose my skin in the wind; the dull light makes it hard to see irregularities in the snow surface, causing me to slip and almost trip at times. There are no other people out here--even the animals and birds are hiding today. Nature is indifferent. And to connect with it while out skiing on a day like today, I literally had to "lean in." Lean in to the wind, lean in to the camber of my skis to get purchase on the icier parts of the trail.  And also mentally lean in to find a connection inside myself with the cold, gray environment around me. In fact, I did a couple of extra loops today, staying out for ninety minutes. Because it was too cold and windy to stop and rest, I kept moving the whole time, but why? 

Anderson might have an answer. He asserts that "Cross-country skiing expresses something deep about the human condition: the absolute, nonnegotiable necessity of the grind. The purity and sanctity of the goddamn slog." In reflecting on this assertion, I thought about how none of us had a choice about coming into this world--we got signed up for "the grind" by our parents. So here we are. Choosing to cross-country ski is a way to make that choice our own. It's a way of saying, I'm here, I can do this. 

Another answer about why cross-country skiers do what they do takes Anderson longer to unfold: "And yet consider the world that this suffering unlocks. Racers rake the stark landscape with their angular shadows. They slide into a whiteness beyond civilization, etching thin parallel tracks over the face of infinity, through places most of us will never go, past the pitter-patter of animal tracks in old-growth forest. This is one of the sport’s great consolations: access to a landscape so stark it merges with the spiritual state of absolute exhaustion, a simultaneous emptiness and fullness that is essentially religious — topographical Buddhism."  Yes, that gets at it. When I "slide into whiteness" here along the Red River of the North, on the flat white, in the flat light, I become flat as well. In a state of exhaustion, I'm no longer me--I am becoming a part of everything else in the world. As I get colder, approaching the same temperature of the snow around me, my self slips away. Anderson is right--it is a spiritual state. 

New Snow on Sunday!

I still get excited when I see new snow in the morning. It also looked a bit windy, so Enrico and I felt it was our civic duty to get out to the trails and ski the new snow into the tracks before it all blew away. We had a good, long ski at a steady pace. The new snow felt soft under our skis. Compared to yesterday, it was like the difference between leather slippers and shearling-lined slippers. We saw another family out skiing; one of the parents was pulling their child behind them in a pulka-type sled.

The new snow was white compared to patches of old snow that were kind of grayish.

This photos shows the new snow blown into the ski tracks is whiter than the old snow revealed by the wind. 

The sky was gray and the light was dull. But Enrico and I skied side-by-side the whole time, so my heart was warm. 

Skiing around the Hjemkomst Center with Job Candidates

     NDSU English lost 7 professors last year, and due to budget cuts, we can replace only two of those positions. I'm on the search committee, and our finalists for the positions have been visiting campus, but two wanted to try out cross-country skiing. I jumped at this opportunity because I believe the cross-country ski trails in Fargo-Moorhead add significantly to our quality of life here, and I love introducing people to this wonderful life-long sport.
     After picking up the candidates from their downtown hotel, I took them over to Scheels in Moorhead to rent skis. Scheels just got new cross-country equipment in their rental department. After getting the equipment, we drove to the Hjemkomst Center, where there are about 5 kilometers of trails groomed for both classic and skate skiing. Prairie's Edge Nordic Ski Club's groomer, Arnie, had just done a fantastic job of re-texturizing the snow and laying new tracks, so conditions were the best they could be with the minimal amount of snow we have. To make the outing even more pleasant, the sun was shining, and the wind was light. With temperatures in the low 20s, this was an optimal ski day. We ran into a couple of other ski club members, Jay Richardson and John Pfund, and they made our candidates feel welcome on the trails. We also met a man and his son who had driven all the way from Minot to try out our trails. There was a deer sighting as well.
     The candidates said they had a great time skiing! Afterwards, I took them to visit the Hjemkomst Center to see the Viking Ship built by Robert Asp. When I dropped them off at the hotel, I hoped they would think of Fargo as a place where one can enjoy winter and local culture.
     When I got home, I had some lunch, took one of my 20-minute power naps, then changed over to skate equipment for a skate ski on the trails by my home. I had a fast ski in the great conditions, and when I got home, my dog Noko looked like he also wanted an outing, so I changed equipment again, and took him out for a skijor. With the crust, we could go off trail easily so as not to disturb the grooming. Occasionally he would break through, but he was so happy to be out that he just powered through it. We had a fun time together. Anyone else want to enjoy skiing today?
     

Twilight and Sunrise Skis

February has been busy with chapter revisions due, reports to write, and candidates visiting at NDSU, not to mention teaching and starting a new research project, but I have found time just before sunrise or just after sunset to dash out to the trails for a quick ski. Here are photos from an evening ski last Sunday and a morning ski on Wednesday. It's great to have a bit of extra light in February to make time for skiing.

Skiing in the Turtle Mountains