One of my favorite times of the year is midwinter when I can get home from work just in time to make a lap around our ski trail before it gets dark. The middle of January is pushing it but a good headlamp with fresh batteries is all that is needed to make the final descent into the homestead at dusk.
The first half of the trail is modest climb. On this particular day I was feeling strong and a bit overconfident. I had just returned from a backcountry ski trip and had been laying down a respectable number of trail miles all winter. Either way you look at it I was plowing down this trail and clearly more focused on the trail one mile ahead than what was below my skis.
I scurried up the initial ascent at an unprecedented pace. I kicked hard knowing that my next move was the first and one of the few technical sections. Carrying built inertia I leap into the steep hill with skis spread in order to dig the edges into the packed trail and provide the traction to defy gravity. My overzealous herringbone was abruptly interrupted when my left ski caught a tree. My legs stopped. I was instantly starring straight down. My torso continued it's inevitable faceplant when a muted gray object in the trail caught my eye. Woven with deer fur my mind quickly recognized it. My face was heading straight for wolf scat! A shot of adrenalin miraculously relayed the unpleasant outcome to my hands just in time for me to catch myself. My face was mear inches from the steaming pile of poop. I was close enough to smell the putred half digested deer kill.
Shaking the snow off I pulled myself back together and laughed at the lesson I just learned: overconfidence only leaves one faced with shit for outcomes!
My pace slowed and I finished the trail under a gorgeous bright full moon.
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