Dear Snow, you suck. Sincerely, Andi

So it continued to snow all week long. The kids haven't been in school since Tuesday. On Friday, finally it stopped. The problem was that it then started to melt just enough to turn into a gigantic slushy disaster in our driveway. The good news was, the highway was bare! The kids and I could see escape! Wil had plowed out a path for my van that morning before work, and I made plans to take the kids into town to meet another cooped up mama and her chillins for lunch. I started the van, and scraped layers of snow and ice off of it. Morale was high as we looked forward to breaking out of here. Sadly though, my van was sealed to the pavement by slush stronger than the highest grade adhesive ever invented by mankind, and probably even by any being in the entire universe itself.

I worked and worked, digging with a frantic ferocity borne of days cooped up with small children and dogs. I'd get it dug out enough to move it a few feet down the hill, and then it would get mired down again. Finally, with expletives that the saltiest sea dog could be proud of, it broke free....and promptly rotated 180 degrees to come to rest crosswise in the driveway, rear tires firmly planted in a snowdrift. With fat tears of frustration, I texted my husband, wondering if I could use one of our other vehicles to pull the van out. By now, the kids had given up and wandered off, and my friend had aborted our lunch date.

Sadly, I puffed the stray hair out of my face, and looked out across the 100 short yards to freedom. It was then I noticed the tractor, plugging along slowly to our house. My neighbor had come to the rescue. It took several giant tugs with the big yellow cat to free my van from its icy prison, but with a huge sucking sound, it finally popped loose and we were free!!! Escape was delightful!



The next day we headed out to a snow party at a friend's place. They had built a huge jump for snowboarders, and a snowmobile was available for rides. There was even a great sledding hill for the kids to burn an exorbitant amount of energy walking back up after each slide. Best of all, a friend brought mimosa fixin's, and we stood around, sipping champagne and enjoying the festivities.

There is an important lesson I learned from all of this, and it really has nothing to do with snow. Snow still sucks, and I still hate it. The lesson I learned, is that champagne (and a shot of jagermeister) may make you feel awesome, but you are probably not as awesome as you think. Definitely not awesome enough to tackle the notorious North/South Palouse River Road Loop less than an hour after indulging in such libations. I know this because after the party, I felt like I wanted to run. I hadn't run since the awful snow run the previous Tuesday, and I had energy to burn.



I put my brand new YakTrax cleats on my shoes for the first time, and happily headed out. The first few miles were amazing. I was clipping along at a fantastic pace, feeling all kinds of on top of the world. Alas, at the top of hill #1, a little over 3 miles in, I felt like I was going to hit the wall. Not just a little bump into the soft carnival bouncy house kind of wall. We are talking that brick wall that they hurtle crash test dummies into with car wreck simulating machines. I hadn't hit it yet, but it was eminent. Apparently I'd burned through the ethanol and was looking for glucose which was nonexistent, as I had somehow managed to forget about eating in all the excitement. Unwilling to admit defeat, I turned the corner into Hill #2. That's about the time the freezing wind hit me full force, throwing me backwards.

Needless to say, I turned around, and careened angrily down the hill back the way I had come. Now I was cold, tired, and crabby about being defeated by my own stupidity and the freezing wind. At mile 5.2 I hit that wall with amazing force. Suddenly my feet felt heavy, my legs wouldn't cooperate, and my lungs simply could not put enough oxygen into my bloodstream. Slowing to a walk, I texted a friend, asking if she was home. I wasn't committing to needing rescue, but I just wanted to make sure I had the option. Since she didn't get back to me after 5 minutes of panting and walking, I decided to cowgirl up and continue my run. Its been hard before, right? Pain is weakness leaving the body, right? "Stop being a princess!!!" I mentally shouted to myself, and ran another 0.8 miles before slowing again. The next half a mile was intermittent walking and slow jogging. I felt a sugar crash coming, and the stupids started to set in. My friend texted back and asked if I needed a ride, and instead of saying "yes, I think I may need a ride before I lay down in the middle of the road and take a small nap in the snow" I answered "I'm ok!".

I jogged the last 1/4 mile to my car, arriving exhausted, defeated, and low blood sugar. At home, my husband fed me Gatorade and a sucker, all the while trying to look sympathetic, even though I know he was thinking "dumbass."

So. Lesson learned. Champagne (and jager) may make you feel awesome, but it is not a power bar. Best left out of the equation. Hardest 6 miles ever. Will not repeat this mistake. Probably.