I got a text message from my old friend, Mark, yesterday inviting me up this winter for another go at ice climbing in the White Mountains. Mark and I were roommates while attending school in Colorado together, and after we graduated, he moved back to New Hampshire, got married to the girl that had lived next door to us, joined the Army (does the hair give it away?) and started studying the effects of extreme weather conditions on the human body. That basically means that around this time of year, Mark spends his days climbing and freezing his tail off, then taking his pulse. Or something like that. He was supposed to have spent the summer doing rescues on Denali, but the trip ended up getting postponed until next year. That meant me being able to spend time at his lakehouse in New Hampshire this summer, where he and his equally crazy family has set up a Fourth of July Triathlon for themselves. Yeah....Mark is, to say the least, an animal, more fit and strong and crazy than anyone I have ever met, or probably ever will meet. But there's no one that I trust more to take me ice climbing, and after last year's trip and a car that can easily get me to the Kancamagus, I can't wait...