It’s the deep blue morning sky with rich green-needled conifers sliced by silver-white birches that fill a mind re-envisioning cross-country ski treks. The intake of crisp, clean mountain air surely converted to its gaseous state from the pure liquid hydrogen-oxygen blend burbling beneath ice trailside. With single digit air, a heart beats rapidly with hands fully warmed from constant muscle core firing movement. And the sun beams down on a beaming face, lifted in short hiatus, as if lounging on a beach in Belize.