Fingers pink with cold;

Shoes go shhhhh on the ice

Forehead tingling. Body warm as my muscles propel me upwards

In the cold, everything is singing

Mountains far away, on the other side of the city

My feet learn to recognise the firmness of frozen earth

I run onwards.

Harbour below, a reminder of warmer days

Snow clings to this old volcano.

All these sheep nibbling. This landscape is so changed: once, it was forest.

Puddles of shadow along the ridge

My sharp edges blunted by deep breaths. Muffled by gloves and mohair. Quiet and alive.

I rasp my tongue over an icy wooden pole.

Return to my bike. Puddles melting. All that is solid can be fluid. Swiftly back to the city.