As care takers of this remote, Arctic- out-post, there is plenty of time to read;
Konstantin Dimitrich Levin thinks: "In infinite time, in the infinity of matter, in infinite space, a bubble - organism separates itself, and that bubble holds out for a while and then bursts, and that bubble is -me". -From, Leo Tolstoy's, Anna Karenina.
Yesterday afternoon I was skiing in a very odd flat white light towards an undefined place. Not an horizon, not a vanishing point, or even a place made soft, as in fog, but towards nothing. I wondered if I had died; how could I prove I had not? Was this skiing into muted whiteness "heaven" or purgatory? The more I began to think about the home made peanut butter cups Steve had made, sitting behind me on a warm shelf back in camp, the more I began to think, "This must be Hell. I am 4 miles away from those little delectables and I cannot see in any of the seven directions. Further more, they may all be gone when I return"!
Luckily, there were three left when I arrived, though a friendly little skirmish immediately broke out between the four of us over who would get to eat them all.
Now I am on to reading Plato's, Timaues. My interest (and my goal) is to be able to read, with comprehension, Casey's "The Philosophy of Place". Casey's book, written in the late 1990s, is about cosmogony (the theory of the creation of the universe), cosmology,( the study of the creation of the universe) mythology, Being verses Becoming, nothingness, sameness, chance and causation.
I was drawn to this title while digging around in the depths of a used book store on my way to Greenland. I had imagined it would be a difficult read what with its infinite references to Kant, Hildegarde, Descartes, Schopenhauer, Ovid, Plato, Homer and Zeus. I did manage to read 100 or so pages last fall, but quickly realised I had some major shortcomings; I had never studied Greek Mythology, I was rusty, at best, with Genesis (to say nothing of the rest of the world's creation myths)- had never read any of the great philosophers, and, I had not yet been able to accurately define cosmogony.
Were I at home, this heavy reading would not be allowed the same amount of time that I so generously can give it here; for I would be stirring the compost, digging in the garden, tinkering with the old 'Benz, visiting friends, learning about bees, skiing down "the Mountain"or puttering around in the shop.
One also has time to pay strict attention to being disciplined with a physical fitness regiment. I became inspired after running with a friend in Kangerlussuaq (and reading a Russian novel largely about suffering) . She, not being much older than me, proved much stronger than me. I reflected upon another friend, at home, who only a few years ago not only would not have been able to imagine what she is doing now on a bike, but would have died trying. Now I am unable to keep up with her, unless we are climbing up a mountain, but even that may have changed.
I suddenly understood that my nonchalant character of being able to hop on a bike and ride 25 plus miles or to pull on some running shoes and pace out 6 miles up a logging road without training, would either come to a screaming halt or might just never get any better. The only marathon I ever ran, though it was over snow, and was in Antarctica, was slow.:5.5 hours.
I was so slow the recreation crew, putting on the event had packed up the finish line and had gone "home". Only Steve, who had been skiing alongside of me, congratulated me. Two USCG cadets, off for a hike, gave us the time as neither of us had thought to wear watches.
And so, out of the blue, I decided to reclaim an old desire; to race an half Iron man. A half Iron man covers 70.3 miles in one day, and is divided up between swimming, biking, and running that is if you haven't had your jaw broken by some one else's flailing foot). I found a race on August 16 . 2009 at Lake Steven's, Washington. I will actually be home then and so have set my sights towards this date as a new training goal. I have been riding the spinning bike, rowing the rower, cross country skiing, lifting weights, stretching and following along with the athletic (impossibly fit) dancers featured in the NY City Ballet conditioning program (Gulag) DVD.
Wednesday is my rest day. After work, I eat, then promptly prepare for bed. I read allot on Wednesdays- and research geeky stuff on the Internet like triathlon training, sports nutrition, dry-land swimming techniques (swimming out of water) growing oats in western Washington, milk cows, plow horses and chicken concentration camps. That is, coyote and raccoon proof chicken keeping.
The highlights of this past week at Summit have been Steve's carving up of a fresh watermelon, the peanut butter cups, slot car racing, watching, "Waking Ned Devine", a moment of fair weather in which we actually saw the sun, last night's brief, full moon, and my having recently discovered that 3 out of the 4 of us love banana pudding!
Steve does not love banana pudding.
We have half a dozen #10 cans full of banana puree, lots of real whipping cream and cases of Nilla wafers.
I am placing a bet that Steve doesn't really know that he secretly loves banana pudding and that by the end of our time here, we will be all out of banana puree.
"All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy".
-Stephen King