This past weekend, the Wall Street Journal's front page had a snowshoe racing article right beneath the story in which Bernie Madoff's Considers His Guilty Plea.
My brother Brendan cross-trains on snowshoes. He also races in them. His invitation to come join him in a race was appealing until he said, "there's nothing like tasting blood in your mouth at the end of such a race."
Madoff? Mercurial taste of blood in the mouth? Snowshoeing? I'm beginning to see the WSJ connection.
Given these bloody, chilling signs of the times, and the gripping bout of single digit temperature that has returned to Omaha, let's revisit winter cross-training endeavors for hopefully the last time.
Earlier this year, I had the opportunity to take Brendan up on the offer for snowshoe cross training when I joined him and brothers Matt and John for a ski weekend in Keystone, Colorado.
It all started on Friday evening with a trip to Chipotle #1, the Mexican grill's equivalent to Ray Croc's first McDonalds.
All hail the origins of cilantro-lime rice, braised carnitas, guac, sour cream and cheese filled flour tortillas!
Anyhow, the four of us skied on Saturday.