To ski beyond comfort
"To falter is to show that we have tried, and in trying we are worthy"
We live for the days when our skis glide, hissing across the snow like tires on wet blacktop; days when the wind is at our backs and skiing becomes like sailing, with our sails full and our eyes on the horizon. We chase the lightness of our days on skis that run fast and easy. We come alive at times when kilometers slide like the mile markers clicking past the car on the interstate: effortless.
At times as this we are full of the joy and the power and the glory, all the good that comes on skis. We are infused with wonder on days as these. We treasure those days. We oh-so-badly want these days. Such days give life to our dreams as sun gives warmth to our brow. We have these days, we all do.
Then there are days when it all crumbles away. There is an edge to what we do and on some days we slide closer to that too-thin sliver between comfort and uncertainty. There are days when we ski easy, relaxed of heavy thought, nonchalant at what we are doing, carefree and alive in the joy of skiing. Then we turn home into an unexpected wind. Or the weight of fatigue grows as a burden on our shoulders. Or we feel the deep craving for food in our gut. We feel it slip away. Lightness becomes weight. Joy is replaced by a chill. Body heat fades as if a shadow has settled above our very being.
Read the entirety of Mich Mode's take on persevering on skis in the February 2013 print edition of Silent Sports magazine. To order a copy, call 715/369-3331. To avoid missing future issues, subscribe online here.
- Two lame ducks & a flying goose
- Three steps to balance on Nordic skis
- Finding my way on skinny skis
- To ski beyond comfort
- The apparent dichotomy of skate skiing
- A running-only approach won't do
- ABR, the upper Midwest's Nordic bellwether
- The running guru had much to teach Nordic skiers about training: Skiing the Lydiard way
- The Lydiard connection
- Extreme skiing (1)