This morning I had the happy condition known as let-there-be-light syndrome. I did 20 minutes with the speed rope in the shed, and as I walked back to house it was though The Big Guy (or Gal) had thrown the switch. It seems like only a few days ago I was walking up the path by the light of my headlamp, yet suddenly now, illumination. I mean, come on, what a perfect day, a perfect day blessedly longer than those of our recent past.
It was 44 degrees when I left work, and the town of Machias seemed to have burst a million vessels, water streaming off every roof and down every street. Yet something told me that the slush was a "city" thing, so I headed to the woods with my skis. The snow was slick and fast, and I had a blast skiing up hill, then coasting all the way home. And I got home with light to spare--so obviously this longer-day business work on both ends.
I also managed to sprinkle 100 pull-ups into my day--just to give you a full account.