“You have officially lost it” my roommate, Lucy said to me. In the moment, I was standing in a foot of water—wearing Blundstones and jeans—and frozen chunks of ice hung off of my pantlegs like ornaments. There was not much I could have said in my defense to make myself appear less deranged. In fact, I only had one good reason for spending two hours in the cold, shovelling the top layer of snow off of a semi-frozen pond: I wanted a rink.
That’s right, a skating rink. For Reading Week, I had the chance to go to my roommate’s cottage. Of course, the pond at the cottage was covered in a foot of snow, which insulated the water and kept it from freezing. After finding out about the pond, I was determined to remove the top layer in hopes of being able to go skating the next day.
Working like a madman throughout the afternoon, I finally managed to remove what was almost certainly over a hundred pounds of snow from the pond. The problem was that beneath the snow was soon-to-be-frozen water, meaning the closer I got to being done, the more water I was standing in. But hey, what’s a pair of wet socks (and shoes, and jeans, and shoes) for a skating rink?
The day after my shovelling escapades, I was sorer than I can ever remember being. Even my most gruelling workouts could never compare to that day. But my aching muscles couldn’t stop me from running out to the pond the minute I woke up and, sure enough, it was frozen. As someone who really misses intramural hockey, getting to skate around with a stick and puck was an absolute dream.
My friends may think I was completely unhinged by my desire to go for a skate, but all that work could not have been more worth it. If anyone knows of a pond that needs shovelling, I’m your girl.
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