In the wee hours of Sunday morning, the wind blew a chilly gust from the north.
The first flakes of snow fell in western Wisconsin, but the rest of the state was cold and snowy, the last of the first snow on record in the US.
As I climbed out of my car at the end of the drive through the snow-covered mountains, the temperature had dropped to -4C, just short of freezing, and I was wearing a coat that was still cold enough to freeze.
I had just finished my first-ever winter snowshoeing and the weather had just been a nightmare.
The snow was too heavy to walk on, the ice was too thick and I couldn’t take my shoes off.
But as the days wore on, I began to feel more and more confident that I would survive.
By Monday morning, I had survived to my car, a car that I had been riding for two years on a snowmobile.
On the first day of the season, I was still feeling the effects of the cold, but I had taken the opportunity to put on some good-humoured humour and I kept on going.
I started driving, and the next day I had the best time of my life, skiing the Alta and the White Mountains and riding my bike along the shore of Lake Superior.
I was so tired by this point that I needed to get up at 6am.
That was when I decided to take the leap, and my journey through the winter was over.
But I was not done yet.
I was just about to hit the road again.
It was a different winter for me to ride in than it was for others in my position.
My winter clothes had been a little bit too warm, and it had been an arduous journey across snow-freezing conditions, through the ice, through snow-drifts, through rivers, through mountains.
And for the first time in a while, I got to feel the snow.
But this was not just another snowshoer’s winter.
This was my own.
I could do it, I could be brave, I can be strong, and all the while, in the midst of all the suffering and hardship I was going through, I would have my smile on my face.
And that was a great feeling.
As the snow piled up and the ice melted, I knew it was time to get off my car and take a break.
And so I did.
But on the way to the car, I stopped for gas, so I could get back to my truck and continue on my way.
The road to the airport was a bumpy one, and we had a hard time getting the snow out of the roads.
And it was getting worse.
It was freezing outside, and on the highways, the snow was starting to fall.
At times, the roads were covered in snow, and people were walking across frozen water, or even in the snow on the side of the road.
The roads were so bad, we had to use an icy-walled parking lot, which was a lot of trouble, as the road was lined with empty lots.
But we were able to get the snow back out, so we started to get back on the road and start heading towards the airport.
As we got closer, the road began to crumble and collapse.
And as the snow got heavier, the people on the roads began to collapse.
So, I put on my skis and skied, and soon we were all up on the snow and skiing.
By the time we reached the airport, I noticed a group of people walking up the ramp and heading towards our car.
As I took a picture, I realised that this group was from the International Olympic Committee, and that I was on their list.
As this was happening, I went back inside the car and began to look around the car.
I knew that this was the last time I would ever be back in the car in the same conditions.
As soon as I put my foot down, I saw that everyone was out.
It looked like they were going to have to leave this place, as they were not allowed to go out of their cars.
And then I saw them.
There were two people, a man and a woman, on the steps of the airport building, and a man in a wheelchair with a cane.
I thought it was a terrible idea to go and see them, but as I looked around, I recognised their faces.
They were all my childhood friends, and their faces were the faces of my own parents.
It just felt so right to me to do something like this.
I wanted to make them proud of me, and they knew I was willing to do that.
I didn’t have much to do, so after some time, I left the airport and headed back to the