It was a blustery, sunny day. Temps were hovering somewhere between 20 and 30 degrees (Fahrenheit). The relatively fresh snow was perfect for skiing. Rather than ski one of our usual routes through the neighborhood, Hubby and I loaded skis, boots, and poles into the car and drove to a nearby groomed trail.
This would be my first excursion on a groomed trail. We are normally trailblazers, forging our own path through fresh snow, moving slowly as we compact a route I can confidently say we would be the only people to use. The trail we chose this day, the Cadillac Pathway in Cadillac, MI (a small town in the “Up North” portion of the western lower peninsula), was groomed for fat bikes and cross-country skis. There were signs indicating another path for hikers and snowshoers. (Because, Heaven forbid, a snowshoer dare to muss up a ski trail. I seem to recall an article in the local newspaper about trail etiquette some years ago which gave me the impression that cross-country skiers believe they have some sort of high ranking in trail use hierarchy.) Snowmobile tracks occasionally crisscrossed our route. It was truly a place for anyone who wanted to enjoy the outdoors in whatever method they preferred, provided they stuck to the appropriate path.
(I could be wrong, but I believe something new this year was a payment box in the parking lot for those who don’t have a Recreation Passport. I don’t recall it being there when we hiked the pathway in the summer.)
As we took our first few glides from the parking lot, we encountered a man who had just completed his, shall we say, “Maiden voyage,” along the path. It seemed we weren’t the only people skiing there for the first time.
The trail was smooth, curving through the woods and meandering up and down gentle hills that, despite their gradual grade, gave us a challenging workout. There were a few times when I had to remove my skis and make my way up a hill when, after trying the weird and awkward herringbone step, I found myself sliding backward and ending up on my knees in the snow. The downhill sections gave me, a relatively novice skier and an often anxiety-riddled person, a few nervous tingles in my belly. On two of the steeper sections (including one with a poorly placed tree on a downhill curve), I took the skis off and tromped my way down, being careful to not obliterate the ski trail in the process. Maybe someday I’ll find my inner daredevil, but she was AWOL that day.
As we came upon the two-mile mark and a decision point where we could decide to go a lot farther or turn and head back, capping the trip at a total of four miles, I confessed to that telltale zing of pain that indicated a zesty blister was forming on my heel despite my preemptive Bandaid application.
The return trip, under a slowly setting sun and through lengthening shadows, was slightly less enjoyable as I suffered through increasing zinginess in the heel, but, overall, I enjoyed our chilly excursion.
As for books…
I recently finished reading In a Holidaze by the two-author duo known as Christina Lauren. If you’ve seen the movie Groundhog Day, that’s probably where the inspiration for the plot of this book came from. I enjoyed the story, though I couldn’t help thinking that many of the adult characters behaved sophomorically. I’m not certain if I’ll read anything more by this author duo, as I had tried reading another book by them last year and couldn’t make it through the first chapter. But that’s okay. While they might not be the right fit for me, they clearly are for others as evidenced by their list of several published novels.
100 Books in 1 Year 