Cross Country Poem by JAMES T. ADAIR

Station wagon parked, tailgate up
blazing sun high in the sky
casting brilliant rays, scattering
reflecting bright flashes in my eyes

Pop on a set of shades
see the snow covering the meadow
all the way up into the hilly glades
on of God's perfect days

Take down the skis
put on the boots and tie the long laces
Younger brother will put me through my paces
all of these outings turn into races

I've not done this for a while
and I can see he's determined to impress me
no, I can see he's also out to best me
even as I'm still trying to dress me

There he goes, legs pumping, poles flying
forward and behind
I can see how its going to be
he could have been a little more kind

Well this is the way it always is
I'm the one who started it I guess
so now me on my skis, well I'll give it my best
but wasn't expecting this day..a test

The snow sparkles and glistens
dead silence only broken by the sound of a car
going over a steel grate bridge, away not far
the echo bounces of the hill as I listen

The only other sound is the crushing snow
on top of it.. a think icy crust
and as I start to pump and pole and glide
I'm feeling my age, my mending ribs and my rust

My heart begins to pump strongly
and I feel it in my chest
but it feels good this exercise
so I push on, though I'd like to stop and rest

My long and narrow skis are a little outdated
they don't make good tracks in this crust-coated slush
But I try to glide forward, making corrections
and try to enjoy and not let it discourage me much

Wow, he's way ahead
already across the field and up past the hill
pushing to go glide faster down it
he's such a pill

Like a monster of my own creation
android show-off overkill
payback I guess for putting him throuh Hell.
Of brotherly competition I'm the perenial King of the Hill

Well anyway, I'm laughing to myself all the while
and for the first time in a long time..an unforced smile
this is the way I've lived my life
living best in the moment and not the while

The cold air reflecting off the snow
the heat of perspiration and sun rays hot
is a great contrast and sort of hits the spot
like jogging with built in fan: yes, that's it I thought

The skiing motion consists of sliding one ski
ahead of the next, with the alternate pole pulling as you push
Eventually its at a running pace and if you're in a rush
you'll fall flat on your face. It's a coordination thing..you see!

When you reach a hill you have to bend your knees
and pole and push twice as hard
and you have to hop as you push to set the ski
or you'll feel it slide backwards; not where you want to be

That guy is so far ahead
This was such an unfair start
Him setting such a fast pace
and me falling apart

Oh well...its not such a strife
let him have his victory, just this once in life
Well I'm up the hill and and good thing
I think that effort was all I had to bring

Now to glide down the hill
I've chosen to hop into his parallel tracks
which is a gift, because my skis were unwaxed
and I glide a bit faster, downhill, I catch my breath and relax

Down the hill I jump out of the tracks
his tracks are too narrow for me
and so I push harder and attack
and my heartbeat rhythm is back

Now I see him looking back over his shoulder
though I'm out of condition and eight years older
I like the feeling now of me pushing the pace
You know, if i want to I can still win this race

Now I've got him on the run instead of him me
this is more fun that I first thought it would be
we have a nice relationship this way
aways at each other's throats, me and he

Well this race will be without winner or loser
just one of mutual glee
becuase it was a nice outing that felt meant to be
we'll think back on it sometime, in eternity

One moment, a resr from daily reality where it was nice to just feel free

So we stop for a moment and lean againt the split rail fence
and dropp our pride and our defense
and I take my heart rate and keep it to myself and say
Hey, let's check your heat rate, just as a marker today

I time him for thirty seconds and he says 82
and I say that's high: 164
you'll have a heart attack if you do any more
and I say mine is only 123

And he yells.....'Jimmy, that's unfiar...you were resting before me'
See, things are still as they should be
we pack up the things and drive away
stop for some Margarittas and salsa, along the way

© James T. Adair