Saturday was beautiful, and the fresh snow that fell overnight gave me a good excuse to drag out my old, beat-up cross-country skis and get my butt outside. After a cup of coffee and some leftover pizza, I scrawled new wax on my scratched-up wooden skis and trudged across the field to the bike trail. There was enough snow so that the paved surface was fine, and I found that if I stayed to one side I could pole with one arm on the unpaved shoulder. Light wind, temperature in the 20s, nice dry snow, nearly ideal conditions. But where could I go in Methodisttown?
Rather than drive out to Alumni Creek Reservoir, where there are groomed trails, or a golf course where there are hills, I took the path of least resistance - and it has made all the difference - the bike trail that used to be the Conrail tracks. It's nothing special. It's flat, and it crosses a few streets going north to Maxtown Road or south to State Street. There are a few trees along one side and fences, warehouses, back yards, and a couple of open fields on the other. Past County Line there is a wooded stretch beside a new upscale housing development with street names like Nature Trail, where it felt quite peaceful. A big V-shaped flock of Canada geese honked by overhead, and I acknowledged them with outstretched arms. I ignored the people and their snow-blowers.
It felt good to stride and glide, stride and glide, hardly poling at all, and I found a rhythm I could maintain without getting tired. I got back an hour and a half later satisfied, did the usual Saturday chores, shoveled the walk, and sat down to watch the snow falling heavier. It's hypnotic. The pea soup is ready, and bread is in the oven. I have firewood to bring in, compost to take out, and miles to go before I sleep. Ha ha.
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