Snow Storm

5 AM. Snow storm, the first for this winter. Bad. Strong winds, wet heavy snow. Snowflakes freeze on the way down and turn into tiny projectiles whipped by the wind. They pelt my face, sting my eyes. I can barely see where I'm going. The wind gusts hit me in the face so hard that I can't breathe. It's a struggle. Every step is pushing against an invisible hand that pushes back into my chest, pulls at my jacket, pounds my head. The icy road is now covered with snow. Its wetness sucks my feet in, I'm running on a carpet too deep for comfort - just pulling the feet out for the next step is an effort. It's an all-out battle. I progress slowly, winning it step by step. The storm throws all its best tricks against me: the wind gusts blow the snow away, there's only a thin layer over ice in places. The pelting snowflakes keep my eyes half-closed. My foot lands on the barely concealed ice, I slip... but there's a pocket of deep snow right beside and my other foot plunges there. Balance regained, I'm saved and push onward.

Near the hospital someone moves on the sidewalk. A man with hands in the coat pockets, head hung low and shoulders high. From the whirling white mass blowing all around us I can't see the leash coming out of one of the pockets, nor the dog until they're so close I could touch them if I stretch my arm. The man looks at me, surprised. I can see his eyes dim in sympathy. I could feel almost imperceptible shake of head - he'd just seen a mad man running in this weather. I plod on, wondering which one of us is crazier.