Like a boxer exhilarated by the battle he faces, I fought the weather with a fierce determination. A gust hit me in the face; I absorbed the punch and countered, driving my arms and moving forward. Mother Nature had six degrees, an unblemished record, and a stiff west wind in her corner. I had Under Armour and a spirit lifted by my approaching book launch in mine. The early rounds fell in my favor, despite the slippery trail and the rock that caught my toe and sent me sprawling. I bounced back up, an embarrassed smile on my face– “No ref, I’m not hurt a bit.” I ignored the little twinge in my back and got back into the ring. By the middle rounds, Mom had me reeling. A steady barrage of frigid blows to my head and body made me question why I was in this fight at all. But then I summoned my inner Rocky. “Is that all youze got?” I held my head and took one on the chin … and laughed. I had become the Iceman; windy punches shattered against my hard, red face. As the fight drew near the end, it was clear there would be no winner. I was tired, but still standing. Mother Nature was unbowed, and still undefeated.
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