I knew the hike I chose yesterday would protect me from the high winds. Luckily I travel with my cross-country skis in the car. I’d pretty much given up on good ski snow this year. So the sight of pristine, untracked snow deep enough to sink my skis, but shallow enough to enjoy the ride – that was a gift from God.

It’s a good thing I said my prayers of thanks before I started my trek. I had a long, flat trail bordering railroad tracks and the workout felt great. I even felt like a skilled athlete. I have so few opportunities to use my beloved skis, that I take longer to get up to my skill level.

The morning was frosty cold, but the sun made the snow “tacky” and slow by afternoon. I’d found a few small hills – I enjoy the feel of the ride and the sound of my skis singing against the snow. It was as close to a perfect day as anyone could ask for.

I should have been grateful for the gift. I was, really, but that last hill – well it was enticing and the snow was slow, so I thought I could handle it. The ride was great, until the very end, when the ice underneath the snow made it impossible to control my speed. I didn’t hit a tree, but I did end up in a tangled heap. The good news – my right hand is not broken. The bad news – I’m learning just how much easier it is to have two hands available for such basic activities as typing my articles, tying my shoes, brushing my teeth – and flossing.

I learned in my early wilderness survival classes that I should practice skills with my non-dominant hand. I’m glad I listened. It’s tough enough dealing with one had when I have access to electricity. I cannot imagine trying to survive in the wild, given the pain and swelling I’m coping with right now.