Now that spring is here I pluck up courage to send winter away with one last snowy post before the start of lilac hunting season. There is so much joy and timid relaxation in the colors of a new spring.

My sport routine makes me a very predictable person, nevertheless the routine process of clinging to my sport habits is not exactly clear-cut. What is unpredictable is the way I mold circumstances and time into allowing me to have my predictable sport routine. I cannot adjust it to mountain skiing. I just find solutions to get through less pain to see more gain.

For me mountain skiing is excruciatingly painful as I busted my knees many times over and last time they failed me on the slope…I have found a solution: cross-country skiing. No slopes, only snow and 2 meter long skis. And the penchant to run…Flatly speaking, it is wonderful.

Outdoors sporting is about braving limits…my cold limits. It felt like being stung by thousands of bees from Narnia and by icicles blown away by a malevolent giant. My fingers and face went numb. I still retain a bit of winter glass in my eyes. Nevertheless in the cold I find clarity and adversity…

And feeling. For one, I want to touch the magic of the world in a gale that ravishes my cheeks, and in the fire of folstitia that burns for Spring below the paleness of March moons.

I illustrate with my humble person, made humbler by the monster building behind, the Bucharest Palace Of Parliament, at the crossroads of winds.

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