Even with the extra day, February sure seems to have come and gone quickly. March. Such an unstable month. Some days feel like winter will never end. Other days feel like the sun has slowly started turning up the heat. In many ways, it was a tough winter for me. Not because of the cold and snow. It was mostly a discrepancy between how I physically felt and how I thought I should feel. Expectations and measurable benchmarks are bitches like that. Sunday morning, I felt a yearning to venture out to the pavilion. I knew that the main trail would be rideable, but I wasn’t sure about the dead end pathway leading up to it. It wasn’t cleared at all. Untouched snow drifts. The snow crust was almost sturdy enough to ride on. I would make it 5 – 10 meters and then my fat tires would break through the top layer and I would come to a halt. I alternated between riding and walking, eventually making it to the pavilion. I had never been out there in winter. Sitting on the frozen bench. So very open. Strong, cold wind blowing. Snow dust dancing. Feeling hollow as the gusts penetrated me. Purifying. Soul sterilizing. Winter blues purging. There’s something comforting about being at the pavilion. An inner peace. A reset of sorts. Huddled as much as I could against the wind chill, I drank some tea. As much as it stills feels like the dead of winter, it’s like I can feel the life, including my own, slowly awakening under the snow coat. Maybe winter’s purpose is to highlight the eternal fire that burns in our hearts? Or maybe that warmth that I felt was just because of the steamy tea? Either way, I felt reassured as I headed back home.