Blister city

I went cross country skiing yesterday. It was long past due to get out of the city and into nature. The kind of nature where all you hear is the creaking of pines, wind whispering through the needles, and your own breathing. Occasionally, I would hear a bird - the only two were chickadees in single tree chatting to one another and a curious raven.

At the midway point, I had my traditional lunch fare. Ginger tea with ginseng thrown in - this mixture (considering the potency of the ginger) would make hair grow on anyone's chest and warm you from your toes to your head. Lovely feeling in the cold. A sandwich on rye bread, tons of greens, smoked gouda as the cheese, and I didn't feel like eating meat meat so I had fake turkey. Ending the meal was a small handful of cadbury mini eggs mixed into my home made trail mix (pecans, walnuts, almonds, dried blueberries and cranberries). Delicious. The only word for it. When hiking or skiing, this is what I love to eat, which also satisfies the tummy and muscles.

Turning back, I made the painful realisation that the last time I skied was 2 years ago and the reason why I hadn't skied since was because it left an indelible mark on my skin the last time (but it was a first - I had been skiing for years on these two pieces of wood and in these boots). Yesterday was the second and last time I will wear those boots unless I figure something out. One cannot simply whimper and decide not to go on unless you have a death wish when you're in the middle of nowhere skiing. I invited people to come with me, but everyone was busy. What can one do but soldier on.

Just measured the behemoths. The blisters that have manifested are the same size as my eye...

Yesterday I remembered, however, the utter and complete joy of skiing. I will have to invest in new boots/skis and get back out there before everything melts.