...of a skier/cyclist's discontent. I'm staring out the nose-imprinted windows of my classroom at a partly cloudy sky and a very mild-looking block of warmth. It's nearly 70 outside and it's the end of October in the mountains of Vermont. Just three days ago there was enough frost on the roads to make biking down the gaps a deadly endeavor. It's these flip-flop weather patterns that drive me nuts this time of year, almost more so than a January thaw or a July cold snap. One moment the weather taunts my yearning to wear my ski boots around the house in an effort to stave off early season shin bang. I've even brought my skis in for a stone grind the second weekend of October (very early for me). The next moment, however, I'm shedding the leg warmers, removing the fleece cap from beneath my helmet, and considering only wearing a jersey with arm warmers and maybe a vest. Mother Nature is continuously trying to convince me to practice polygamy:
I'm supposed to be wed to both skiing and cycling at the same time. It's this enduro-sport tug-o-war that really begins to gnaw on my patience after awhile. I'm always thinking that the grass is greener on the other side as a bike ride can often turn to pining for skiing this time of year, and skiing can often turn into a cycling reverie while on an April chairlift ride. It's difficult for me to be content within the season. I have no patience, I'm too involved in the anticipation of something else, not the closure of the present.
Perhaps that is what fuels my passion for these two sports though. It's certainly why I could never live anywhere without genuine seasons. And the notion that not being able to have something only makes you want it more truly applies. I wait with baited breath as the first real snowstorm delivers its crystalline bounty. The woodsmoke permeates across the hillsides, the last of the beech leaves cling tenaciously to their branches, not even a raven glides across the view, and that first white meteorite of frozen precipitation catches my periphery. Winter is about to descend upon me.
Until then, though, I'm still married to my bikes, thinking about them in the early afternoon as I begin to make plans for my post-school activities. The riding is still good on the roads, and even though it gets dark so quickly now, it's kind of nice to know that you can only ride so much before returning to the illuminated brilliance of your house. I guess I'll just have to try and enjoy the moment, in this transitional netherworld where tight singletrack and full blast GS turns co-exist.
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