I lean over and steal a lingering kiss before we both have to lock into the challenges ahead. With one minute to go, she reminds me what the general instructions say and then reads and rereads the first three instructions for the calibration leg. Finally, it’s 10:09 and we’re off. “Take the nearest of the five exits from the lot; commence 28 mph average speed; turn left at 1.358 miles.” Got it!The first few miles, about ten, are deliberately easy and my mind wanders to what’s coming. With the first leg completed, it gets real. The final calibration instruction says “9.736 miles at the owl; reset your odometer and proceed to instruction one.” I spot the wooden owl statue in front of the Owl Tavern and reset my odo there. The mile references get extremely sparse, as expected in a championship event. My navigator reads me the next three instructions and tells me we will enter the woods at that point.As we pass the tavern, I inhale a lung full of seasonal pumpkin-spice schnapps. Though I. Squinting my eyes, as they adjusted to the light streaming into the room, I searched out the fire and found that it had burnt itself out in the night, as I slumbered fitfully in the dream of snow. Snow! I dressed quickly, putting on my warmest clothes and bustled myself to the doorway, where I stood entranced for many long moments, simply breathing the awe that was the tempest’s leaving. Trees everywhere carried the glimmer of ice, like so many diamonds sparkling in the morning sun. Wasting little time I stepped from the house then, my boots crunching softly in the newly fallen snow, a carpet of white decorating the world abound. Spinning round in a gay circle, my senses leapt with joy at the change. The world had it’s own sounds now, new voices carrying on every intimate breeze. The fragile creak of ice, covering branches here and there, played their own melody, adding to that of a warm stream’s trickle, running undaunted beneath that coffin shell of ice. A simplicity of life was.
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