The other day I was walking to meeting late at night when my path happened to take me by a plot of uninterrupted snow. The field had accrued a couple feet at least. I don't know what happened to the rest of it.
The snow had melted a little and then frozen back again, leaving a hard shell of ice over the soft snow filling. I kicked the ice and it pushed back. I wondered if I could walk across it.
I eased up onto it with my hiking boots. So far so good.
As I began to amble across it carelessly, a few steps started to crunch through the crust. First one heel and then another pushed itself through the surface. I leveled out my steps to increase surface area and decrease pressure. The surface tension held.
That tactic only worked for so long, though. Soon my precise planning gave way again. I figured out quickly that if I sort of shuffled my feet quickly they didn't break through nearly as bad.
Apparently, I was just heavier by the end though. I walked a few steps without problem, but then out of nowhere a normal step crashed! down to the ground, leaving me with one leg above the snow and the other immersed up to my kneecap in it. I let out a loud yelp. I immediately tried to jump out, but my dry foot jackhammered through the same ice to the same end. If this would've been ice, I would've died.
After several fruitless steps, I bounded back across the field onto the sidewalk from whence I had come. Socks now slightly damp with the melting remnants of snow, I turned again to walk to my meeting. It was totally worth it.
Sunday, February 13, 2011
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