Today I redefined the word "exhilarating" for myself, the dictionary explanation having grown dim and unassuming.
Back home, now, at my desk, my vision is superseded by the image of two pair of snowshoes leaning elegantly up from the bank of snow where we left them.
A few metres further, lie the precarious tracks of my determined last circuit of the three-foot deep snow by the woodpile, biting holes in the landscape of Apsley.
In my heart, I can still feel the smooth-ening pounding as the cadence finally felt right, and my pace quickened to one that I will forever be imminently proud of.
My first time on snowshoes.
And I, fat, broken, tired, I -- loped past those branches.