MDS: Snowtime Blues

It was a long Christmas Day. Plenty of presents. Too much food. Basketball on TV. Way too much food. And, I managed to stay upright for most of it.

After a 90-minute mid-morning nap.

But, by 8 p.m. I was a basket case. Seems to me that once-upon-a-time 2 a.m. was the "basket-case" hour. Ah, but that a different lifetime, one that came long before kids, not to mention MDS.

Still, I'm not pleased. It's been raining since dinnertime last night, but prior to that there's been all this snow on the ground. It was mocking me. "Here we are," it was saying, "all fluffy and white and slippery, and you can't even consider sliding on me."

My ski gear sits, as inactive as I am.

For non-snowsliders out there, this kind of downheartedness might make little sense. But, think of this: for we snowsliders who live in the metro northeast, the season is, at best, three-plus months long. It begins in earnest in early December, and is over by early April. One must slide at every opportunity.

To make the season longer requires travel to far away destinations. Places where the air has little or no oxygen. Places reached by expensive and extensive airplane rides. Airplane rides riddled with germs.

So, I sit—or lie around—watching the calendar creep towards January and the ski season slipping past without knowing if I'll ever get out there. Considering that a 20-minute walk around the park pushed my physical limits the other day, one really must wonder about what's possible.

Of course, this is about more than skiing. It's about what one's physically capable of doing; about sustaining a physically active lifestyle; about being able to dispel tension and express creativity through activity.

I'm still hopeful that I'll get in my outdoor sliding time. But, I'm sorry, no amount of Turner Classic Movies will substitute for its loss. I've been running around outdoors for too long to think it doesn't matter much.