Snow.

A lot of people like snow. I find it to be an unnecessary freezing of water.
~Carl Reiner

Ah, the fluffy white beauty that is snow....blech. I hate snow. I think maybe I used to like it, back when I was seven. Snow at age seven was a wonderful magical weather apparition that meant at the very minimum a two hour delay in school, and at its best the Holy Grail....a snow day. Snow angels, snow forts, snow balls, snow men, and our poor dog hooked up via horse halter and baling twine to a rickety old sled. Snow was excitement all wrapped up in frozen awesomeness. It was bulky snow pants, thick gloves, and boots two sizes too big. It was blue lips, tingly fingers, and steam rising from wet clothes as we backed up to the pellet stove clutching mugs of cocoa. Yep, snow was the bomb at age seven.

Teleport many years into the future and here I am, hating snow. Sure, I guess its pretty. I'll give you snow romantics that much. Its pretty when its falling and accumulating in the fields, where it belongs. It is NOT pretty when its in my driveway, or piling up menacingly on the ledge above my door, waiting to pounce like a cold wet cat onto my unsuspecting warm dry body as I attempt to exit my house. It is NOT pretty when it is on my car, or on my road, blown into drifts taller than the van, and it is certainly NOT pretty when I'm called out in the vet truck to the middle of nowhere at 11:00 at night to sew a cut horse back together.

So this morning, when I looked outside and saw that it had actually snowed more overnight, I sat disgruntled in the window seat, sipping my caffeine and loathing the weather. Alright snow, I see you. I see you and I accept your challenge. I will run outside today, even if it is only a few short miles, I will conquer you and then I will possibly hop around in little circles cheerfully yelling "I win!" to my annoyed husband whom I will make go with me.

That is how my poor, tolerant husband ended up driving us out to my favorite running spot this morning. We thought that since it is a road, it would probably be plowed. How wrong we were. He looked at me, one eyebrow up, questioning my sanity as I dutifully plugged a three mile run into my iPhone and selected a few extra motivating songs. Looking back at him over the scarf triple wrapped around my mouth and nose, I confidently and maturely responded "crazy, schmazy. Let's do this!"

Two miles later, I puffed along behind my husband, who was obviously enjoying watching my short legs and unsteady feet slogging uphill through a foot of fluffy snow. "Come on Babe, its just a little snow!" he encouraged, "I thought you loooovvveeed snow!" He drew the "loved" out in a long, taunting way that made me think that if I could only catch him I would show him how much I loooovvvee snow by introducing it to his face.

Finally, the run was over. I can run, skip, and play for over 13 miles with hardly a hint of distress, but 2.5 miles in the snow nearly kicked my ass. There was no triumphant jumping in circles shouting "I win!". Still, I finished the run, so I feel that my nemesis did not completely best me today. Snow, you may have put up a good fight today, but next time....next time.