Snow and solstice

Five new inches of powder in my front yard and a final daylight loss of 0 minutes, 3 seconds. It only goes uphill from here.

Color and light

Date: Dec. 20
Mileage: 12.3
December mileage: 286.1
Temperature upon departure: 29
Sunrise: 10:05 a.m.
Sunset: 4:04 p.m. (tomorrow, the same)

The light is fading, but tonight I ride.
I ride with a remnant sunset,
and its flecks of cayenne pepper
searing the lavender sky.
Beneath sunset, Mt. Augustine looms
in steam and subdued silhouette,
fighting the twilight for distinction
before the pitch descends
and shadows contract.

I ride with the pitch,
only a dull yellow beam between me and nothing,
only the ice spray glittering like disco glass,
and screaming descents into nothing.
Moose tracks dig empty holes.
Great tussocks roll over snow,
and I bump. I ride.

I ride until there's no distinction between trail and field
until the white opens wide beyond darkness,
until strips of green stretch over the northern horizon.
Could be the apocalypse.
Could be the aurora.
The world is fading,
but tonight I ride.

... Tonight's ride was sponsored by Kevin, a yearround rider of the truest type down in St. Paul, Minn. The bicycle poetry was, well ... OK. I don't usually do poetry. But I felt inspired in that direction this evening because today, one day before solstice and 11 days ahead of my deadline, I surpassed my Susitna fundraising goal and subsequently put a check in the mail. I entered the Susitna 100. I'm in the race. There's no turning back now. And it feels good. Really good. I'd really like to thank everyone who helped me reach this point.

It doesn't end here, of course - not even close. I have a lot of training to do, so I'd like to set forth a new proposal. Between now and Feb. 15, I'll ride two miles for every dollar raised. One mile ($0.50) will be donated to the Lance Armstrong Foundation to support the good fight against cancer. And the other mile ($0.50) will help pay race expenses, including food, lodging and transportation (I'd love to ride my bike the whole way, but the race does begin almost 300 miles from my house.) And from now on, the wimpy roadie miles don't count. Unless, of course, all the snow melts.

Then it's time to rethink my decision to live in southern Alaska.

Bright spots

Today I learned through the reporter grapevine that a prowler was lurking around the building I work in one week ago Sunday. He hauled in several gallons of gasoline and set them down in strategic spots throughout the halls. After successfully shutting off the sprinkler system and making away with a fair amount of merchandise from a hardware store, the would-be arsonist fled for unknown reasons and left everything behind. My initial thought upon learning how close my employer-issued iMac came to being an friedMac was "Joy to the world, the school burned down." But then I remembered that losing my job might be a bad thing, even on a Monday in the midst of the holiday slew.

But I successfully made it through at least one day; three more to go. Such is life. I came home after enough hours in the cement box to fill in two healthy shifts. I rode the trainer for an hour so I could watch "Arrested Development." (Yes, I do get nearly four channels on my analog, antennaed television.) Then Geoff, our neighbor Jen and I enjoyed a lavish Indian feast. If there's anything Geoff has down pat, it's Indian food. I knew I moved to Alaska for a reason.

It's funny how even the most dreaded days can turn out surprisingly well ... or at least seem so in retrospect to the alternative. I avoided being a victim of arson and even arrived home in time to watch the only show I care to watch on TV. And before you ask, 'who in the world watches 'Arrested Development' anyway?,' I have this to say: There are dozens of us! Dozens!