Sweating Tears of Ice

Here in my first post, I would like to explain to you how I came up with the name of this blog.  

It was a strange phenomenon.  This has been an unusually mild winter in Pennsylvania, and I have now become accustomed and spoiled by getting to take my Sunday afternoon long runs outside.  So one week I was determined to continue my trend.  It was just freezing out, and I have plenty of cold weather running gear, so why not?  It was the middle of January!

Snow the previous day still lay fresh on my favorite trails, so I was forced onto the more dangerous roads.  Wearing asphalt-black pants and a dirty-snow-white fleece. A new threat of precipitous weather brought heavy grey clouds.  And therefore, I left behind my sunglasses.

Wind.  Oh, that bitter wind.  Just in my first few steps, it hit me.  Clear in the naked face.  My body spit back the only protection it had, warm salty tears.  But just as the tiny drops of water hit the air, they froze right to my cheeks.  In steps that followed, some of these drops escaped to the air in their crystalline state.  And as I kept moving, those tears that stayed on my face made it all the way to my neck on a liquid trail.  The warmth of my body was picking up with the output of work I was doing.

I won't lie, that was not a run I look back upon with fondness (even though I recall putting up a decent time on that 7 miles, just to get through it).  But I spent that hour plus thinking about how my body was working to fight the elements.

The place in my life is similar.  I love what I am doing.  I love where I am.  Just as I love running.  Being a mother, a wife, a writer, and a daughter of the King are all what I have always wanted to be.  But that doesn't make it any easier.  There is more work involved in all of those jobs than I ever expected.  Nothing comes easily.  But I have been made into a person who will happily do what it takes automatically to succeed at these important tasks.  

The tears will come.  And the world may blow a cold wind upon them.  But as long as I keep moving, and push through it, my body will adjust.  The ice will melt from the heat of my passion.