251 degrees Kelvin. Seriously.
Okay, okay, I know . . . enough with the Kelvin joke. But that’s what makes it bearable, because it’s -7 on the creaky old Fahrenheit scale (and don’t get me started on Celsius).
Yesterday it got up into the low teens and was very sunny, a perfect day on the slopes, and I went to Mount Snow and had one of my best ski days ever. I got in nearly six hours on the slopes, conditions were fantastic, and there was hardly anyone there. I took on some terrain I hadn’t tried before and really did nearly the whole mountain except the diamonds — I need to try those with someone who knows them. Some twenty-something flew off the lift with the admonition “Go hard! Take chances!” I didn’t get a chance to explain the No Injuries Policy® to him, but I took him up on the first part. I got in a little bit of the taking chances part when four o’clock was approaching and the sun was sinking behind the mountain, the light got so flat that it was impossible to read any terrain and I had to go on the “keep it between the trees” theory. Otherwise it was a day of fast, good turns, more boldness going over the big mounds, and only one fall when I skitched across some ice above a set of moguls that I quickly got out of. I was tired last night but not sore, and today my body feels fantastic. Nothing better in the world than hard exercise in cold air and sunshine.