Smuggs: Don’t Stop
Days like today reinvigorate me with that overwhelming feeling of living to the fullest. My body unleashed testosterone and aggressiveness that combined and fueled a kind of visceral mania. My eyes opened wide, I stumbled out of the shadowed state of depression, and felt a lost but not forgotten passion. Where has it been? I have it now but I know it can be fleeting. So I need to use it while I have it, internalize it, and make it mine again.
The bright light of spring split the clouds in the early afternoon. The metaphor was not lost on me as I slowly skied the traverse, looking around, breathing deep, feeling human again. Or at least feeling like myself again. Well, except for the poor physical conditioning.
I soon found myself in an elevator shaft, in the trees on upper Madonna Mountain. A pair of trees towered over partially buried deadfall and an ice patch. I could make the turn but I had a hunch that there was either glare ice or rock under the snow where I planned to turn. There wasn’t much room for speed control below the trees, so it was to be a straight line into an eight foot wide 35 degree elevator shaft. I looked to my left and other tracks had opted for discretion leaving the line untracked with two inches of fresh covering who knows what beneath. A few years ago, I wouldn’t have even been thinking about the calculation, I’d already be at the bottom. I wasn’t going to back off it, I was out to recapture something that I lost. And what a place to do it.