Outside

While snow lovers have cursed La Nina for her fickle ways and meager offerings this year, many hikers, bikers, joggers are checking the forecast each week to see how many more days of running and riding they can fit in. If you've been hibernating since November, here's how warm it is. I saw a couple playing tennis in shorts in mid-December, a time of year more associated with scarves and socks than shirt sleeves and tube socks.
Say what you will about global warming, but there's something undeniably pleasant about tossing aside your jacket in January. I'm not advocating more carbon emissions or a global monster truck rally, just pointing out that when Old Man Winter throws a change-up pitch, you should take the opportunity to drive it to left field.

After weeks of prayer and breathless anticipation, Mother Nature finally responded with a quality snowfall to finish off 2011. Saturday's reported foot of snow (depending on whom you ask) and morning temperatures in the single digits meant I was heading to Todd Lake for my final ski of the year.
Trading my usual ski partner (dog) for a much prettier one (wife), we arrive at Mt. Bachelor's Nordic Center by 8 a.m. While I'm not generally considered an early riser, I do support weekend alarm clock usage for outdoor activities. A lack of crowds and better snow conditions trump sleep every time.
Anybody out and about on the last day of 2011 can attest to what a gorgeous day it was. We skied the Common Corridor to the Todd Lake Trail, circled the 45-acre Todd Lake and headed back up the Cascade Lakes Highway. We happily broke trail most of the trip, with the exception of the groomed corridor and snow-covered highway. The five-plus mile journey was the perfect way to finish off 2011 and energize our wish for a good 2012.

The first mile and a half is the toughest. In those six, eight or 12 minutes, your hands seem to get progressively colder and wind whips at every bit of exposed skin turning it red like the coals glowing in the woodstove that you foolishly left behind at home.
If you're lucky, the sun is out and you can think about how great it is to live in Central Oregon in January because unlike those poor schleps in Salt Lake City, Missoula or Bellingham, you can at least occasionally get some Vitamin D while you freeze. More than likely, though, it's sleeting sideways and the dark is either being slow to retreat or closing in fast, and you're thinking you should remember to buy batteries for your headlamp before this weekend's 10-miler.
At 2,000 steps, your blood finally reaches your toes, and your feet go from cherry popsicles to something bordering on comfortable. You pick up your head, squint your eyes against the grit the weather gods are throwing your way and grin. In arctic temperatures and ugly weather, you're taking control. You're getting stronger, healthier, happier. Big Bob selling treadmills on late night infomercials on channel 352 can kiss your ass. You're filled with joy, and all you have to do for the next forty minutes is keep putting one foot in front of the other.

Happy winter solstice, girls and boys. Time to decide how (and when) to celebrate the longest night of the year. Back in 46 BC, Julius Caesar arbitrarily picked December 25 as the Roman winter solstice. These days we know the beginning of longer days arrives Dec. 21 or 22. Although if you listen to country music, you know the longest night can occur any time of year, but namely when a deep voiced, tight-jean-wearing cowboy gets jilted by a lover.
While its original importance rested in a community's ability to survive the winter, these days I see solstice as a reason to celebrate the arrival of winter. While times have changed, some traditions endure. Once upon a time, cattle were slaughtered as beer and wine were fermented and made ready to be consumed. And with the recent onslaught of breweries and butcher shops in town, Bend has aligned itself nicely with the, “last feast celebration” theme.