The heavenly gift of the snow day bestowed upon me and my schoolhouse brethren allowed the opportunity to worship those soft, white flakes of frozen hexagonal ice crystals. But where to find my mountain of worship? This storm was a travesty. 26" of snow fell in NY's Central Park, but the mountainous playgrounds of NH and VT got negligable amounts. So I ended up at none other than little Wachusett Mountain, which boasted 20 fresh inches. Certainly nothing specatular, but its location allowed me to sleep in and still get some solid runs in on my snowboard. The first run I was rigid with trepidation, having been away from the board for 2 years. (Well, I did go once last March.) But I narrowed my stance on the board, loosened up, and then felt comfortable carving turns the rest of the day. What a fun gift today.
Yesterday I spent some time on the trainer, and then went out for a nice romp in the snowshoes. This winter's weather has been crazy, but I have to admit, although I have longed to cross country ski, the Sunday mountain bike rides, hikes, long road rides, and dinners with friends have really been wonderful.