A couple of weeks ago I tried this going up Mt. Baldy. I thought to myself, "I feel pretty good today, I'm going to really go for a good time."And then I reached the ridge at about 9,000 ft covered in melty, post holing snow that made any efficient movement impossible, and I was sorely reminded that it is still winter. Contrary to the summer-esque temperatures here in Southern California, it is still the middle of February, a month that, in other parts of the country, is characterized by the coldest most dismal grey days of the year. Although many Californians are touting the fact that they do not live in Boston right now, the people living in the more frigid parts of the country have something that we do not have: the inability to ignore the current season. They are still forced to slow down, to sleep more, eat more, and enjoy a time of rest. For us here in the West, paying attention to the slowness of winter is a much more difficult discipline. Instead of walking out the front door and seeing or feeling winter with our bodies, we must find some other way to remind ourselves of its presence. We are forced to pay homage to an invisible season, as if enacting an ancient tradition tied to a different time and place.
That being said, Ultra running season might have begun, but I think I am going to keep taking it a little slower. That doesn't mean I wont be working hard, it just means that when given the choice to push myself to the limit or back off a little, I will choose the latter for the time being. After all there is still snow on Baldy.
Weekly arbitrary stats:
Burritos consumed: 4
Number times I kicked a rock: ~ 20
Push ups: 35
Pieces of Pie: 5 (not including pizza)
|See there is still snow.|