Freedom Flows From Here
My cross-country ski outings in the Catalan Pyrenees always begin the same — with a steep incline just off the start. No matter the ski station around La Seu d’Urgell, there is never enough time nor space to get into a “feel good” rhythm.
As I start, my skis take the shape of a giant slice of pizza, narrow at the ankles and extending wide towards the tips to catch as much snow as possible under each ski. The upward grind begins.
On Monday of this past week, I am skiing alone. And on this day, something else is a little different too — I am not carrying any water.
My plan is to go a little further than I have previously skied before at this particular station — about four miles outbound covering over 1,000 feet of climbing.
My lungs burn quite a bit in the early stages. I tire easily and frequently. And of course, my mouth dries quickly.
Along the way, a recurring thought comes to mind, “I could have brought the water bottle…”
When I do stop, I look at the snow and pine trees that surround me. Next, I close my eyes and take ten deep breaths. Then, I begin to ski again.
Eventually, I crest the pinnacle and enjoy a gentle downhill glide for about a mile before arriving at Pollineres, a flat and wider area with a small rushing creek passing through it. (The photo at the top of this post is Pollineres.)
I take off my skis and walk down to the creek. I open the tiny collapsable cup that I have been carrying in my pocket. Kneeling beside the creek, in one fluid motion, I scoop out cup-fulls of the frigid waters flowing out of the Pyrenees and pour each one into my mouth.
Finally, I rise to my feet. The mid-morning sun on this plateau counterbalances the sense cooling-off that I feel from drinking the cold water.
In this moment, I consider a thought:
What is freedom?
To let go of the thought, “I could have brought the water bottle.”
With gratitude,
-Joe
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