I paused in the basin where I had been turned back a month ago. All the snow had vanished. The trees were still there, though, many-limbed behemoths that I had to crawl over and under, trees that will never be cut this season due to sequestration.
When I gulped down an entire half liter of Gatorade and an uncountable amount of Oreos at my one break, I knew I had not adequately fueled and hydrated on this unseasonably warm day. Feeling better and relieved, I charged up the remaining two miles to the lake, finding it still partially frozen. Today was definitely not that day.
This is why I do it: the grim winter runs, the weight lifting, the relentless pursuit of fitness. Two days later I would be running down a trail and a woman I know slightly would see me, and say, "I always see you out here doing something like this. You are an awesome athlete."
Well, not really. I only need to open my Google Reader to know that there are plenty of women more talented than I. You work with what you have. Sometimes you are breathless. Still you push on. Your Ice Lake is around the corner.