What is important inside is less outside. Still, I plow thru the ice and fresh snow slowly, Looking for the warm light, less and less of the cold and grey. More of the warmth instead of ducking in and out layers, Thin it out and clean the legs with the pedals. When I was younger work was foreign, nowhere familiar. With the fear of slowing down the urge for work has grown, Now it is my blanket, a little space heater I can rely on, The skis right now are the wall I plug the heater into. The bike soon enough again.