Come hell or high snow drifts...

It is officially winter here in Running Springs. Yards have filled up with snow, releasing ecstatic dogs who are now able to step over their fencings, tails wagging, and hold their annual hind-sniffing sessions in the middle of the road. School has been called off for the second day in a row--a Christmas miracle to the children of the town, a headache for their parents who began the battle of snow removal at the first flake and now meet in the street to borrow each other's milk, ibuprofen, and Ben Gay. 

Cars are silent white lumps. It smells of cold air and the diesel fumes of the skip loader moving snow at the end of the street. Every few seconds, the sound of its backup warning bell chimes in with the scrape of shovels and the squeal of the neighborhood kids sledding down the other end of the our street. 

Today I would bake cookies. I would drink hot chocolate and stay on the couch under a blanket, unshowered and unbrushed. I would make biscuits to go with the chili in the Crockpot or maybe some cornbread with honey butter. 

I would do all those things, but instead I battle my way into the gym. 

The gym is empty. Except for Tina. She arrives and looks at me, "What do you want to do?" She has a way of directing me and letting me lead myself at the same time. 

Go home, eat cookies on the couch under a blanket, watch an old movie... 

"It is ab day," I reply.

I make eye contact with her, hoping she might suggest I have gotten enough of a workout shoveling today, hoping she might notice that I have had this head cold for three weeks now and today might be a good day to rest, hoping she might not want to be here anymore than I do. No doubt she could be a cozier place right now too. 

"Okay, let's start with reverse crunches."

Damn.

Sentenced to workout, I lay down on the cold, black vinyl of incline bench and begin my reps, counting out reverse crunches. 

Once again the result of initial effort is stunning. My body warms. It feels good. I can tell I am stronger today than I was last week. I have more control in my movements, and my muscles know what they need to do. 

In between sets, Tina and I share our war stories over the battle to get to the gym today; we look outside and marvel at the wind swirling the snow, forcing it to circle fiercely before coming down to rest. I can relate to that snow. 

The gym remains a ghost town. Without other bodies, the room stays cold, and it is silent--the cable to the satellite radio is hopelessly frozen. Without the sound of music, I have to listen to myself breathe as I push through my reps. But I am glad to be here. Tina is game for life, and she rubs off on me. 

An hour later we part ways. I thank her for coming in today, but she waves her hand and says, "Not a problem, I am coming back this evening for my own workout."

Two hours later, after getting the truck stuck twice, I give up, park it next to another abandoned vehicle and walk home. I grab my backpack out of the cab, and the shovel from the bed, throw each over a shoulder and let the snow collect on my eyelashes as I wind through the streets and wave at people leaning on shovels, taking cigarette breaks. There is a sense of pleasure and contentment in the air that is not limited to freed dogs and children.

The rest of the day I will spend curled up under a blanket drinking tea instead of hot chocolate. Tomorrow I will rescue the truck. I have to get it unstuck. I have a workout scheduled in the morning.