{"id":8713,"date":"2021-02-21T22:56:01","date_gmt":"2021-02-21T22:56:01","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/orcutt.net\/weblog\/?p=8713"},"modified":"2021-05-29T15:42:23","modified_gmt":"2021-05-29T15:42:23","slug":"f-ck-fifty-one","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/orcutt.net\/weblog\/f-ck-fifty-one\/","title":{"rendered":"F-ck Fifty-one"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

This morning, to celebrate my birthday and the fact that I\u2019m probably in the best shape of my life since I was 17, I went cross-country skiing alone at a local state park (James Baird). Anyone who knows me or has followed my blog for a while knows there\u2019s nothing unusual about this. Indeed, it\u2019s axiomatic: If there\u2019s snow on the ground within 100 miles of where Chris Orcutt lives, chances are he\u2019s out there cross-country skiing on it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Anyway, while I was skiing this morning, climbing up and gliding down the rolling park hills, skiing off-trail far away from the machine-made path, my 76-year-old father, Al, happened to show up at the park as well.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Al\u2019s been skiing for 25 or 30 years and was out there this morning for an hour of exercise. I spotted him a quarter-mile away or so. He was heading for a fork in the trail, so I picked up the pace to cut him off. Suddenly I saw him stop in the distance and had no idea why. He was watching me. I raced the rest of the distance, running up the snow-covered hills with a brisk herringbone step, and zipping down the other side. When I caught up to him he gave a start.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

–<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"
My 76-year-old father, Big Al, still skiing strong.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

–<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s wrong, Dad?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOh, Chris,\u201d he said in his inimitable Downeast Maine accent, \u201cthat\u2019s you! I didn\u2019t even recognize you! I thought you were a professional Nordic skier out there, like some of the guys I\u2019ve seen up at Lake Placid.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThanks, Dad,\u201d I said. \u201cThat might be the nicest compliment you\u2019ve ever given me.\u201d (Although he\u2019s been equally complimentary of my novels as well.)<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI mean it,\u201d he said. \u201cYou\u2019re doing everything<\/em> right out there, and so smoothly\u2014gliding along like you were born on these things.\u201d He picked up one foot with the ski attached.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We skied for an hour together, as we have just about every day this season while there\u2019s been snow on the ground, and then we went our separate ways. We\u2019ll probably meet up again tomorrow.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

–<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"
As a rule, I don’t smile very much. The fact that I’m smiling in this photo tells you how much I love X-C skiing.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

–<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Here\u2019s the thing: I\u2019ve been cross-country skiing for about 22 years. This year, however, everything has clicked and I\u2019ve gone to a new level in my skills. After hundreds and hundreds (probably thousands of hours) over the past 22 years, all of the elements have come together: the practice on the trail (including skiing through blizzards); studying books on the subject and watching videos on it; my year-round strength training; the yoga and TB12 flexibility\/pliability work I\u2019ve been doing for the past 5 years or so; my sobriety; my mental maturity and fortitude; and the self-direction and self-discipline I\u2019ve developed from 30 years as a professional writer\u2014all of these disparate elements have coalesced to take my cross-country ski skills to a new level.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

–<\/p>\n\n\n\n