Finding Light in the Fog

I woke before the alarm clock could go off at 5:35 am. The outdoor temperature was 16 degrees Fahrenheit, the world dark and quiet. At the athletic club where I coach Masters, I could see tell-tale banks of steam rising from the parking lot and my heart sank - the covers weren't on the pool. Who knew what the water temperature would be after a frigid night with no protection. The indoor lanes were not an option because COVID restrictions limit us to ten people per area and the indoor pool was already reserved.

Trudging through snow on deck to get to the thermometer, I held my breath for something better than 78 degrees. Victory! It was 80. With my massive college parka, my handwarmers in gloves, my triple layers, I was warm enough to stay on deck for an hour. One by one, my morning crew emerged from the long covered hallway and moved quickly but gingerly over the biting cold concrete. I gave the good news about the temperature and tried to recognize and greet each individual, though it was difficult. Between my fogging glasses and face mask I could see very little. My athletes disappeared into the clouds of steam and started their miles.

One vivid hot-pink sunrise and an hour of cold coaching later, I helped them slide and tip-toe over the skating rink that now covered the pool deck, back into the warm tunnel where their towels waited. Such a hardy crew! We earned the sunrise and the bright blue sky that followed their labors. I heard from the manager that she tried to cover the pool yesterday, but the whole unwieldy apparatus was frozen to the ground. Perhaps it will un-freeze later today as the welcome sun emerges. Watching the sun rise every winter Monday is my favorite part of the workout, a harbinger of good tidings and not bad.

Now home, the hardest - and best - part of my day complete, I slowly warm nose and fingers as I watch the cats drink out of the Christmas tree water. My three boys (one husband and two sons) slouch over coffee and cereal at the kitchen table, and my daughter will not likely emerge from her bedroom until after 10. It's nearly Christmas, and regardless of freezing temps, careless cats or grouchy kids, we're getting in the spirit, finding light in the fog, waiting for sunshine to burn the clouds away.