The metro driver announced he would go no further, pulled to a stop and wished them all a happy holiday. Just like that. Powerless and without recourse, she stepped into the blizzard, eighteen frigid blocks from home. Snowbanks, sidewalks, yards and street merged recklessly and disappeared altogether as she trudged on, balancing precariously in the rutted and iced tire tracks. Blinded by sideways snow, she cursed the weather, the driver, her shallow breath and her waning stamina. Lawrence of Arabia gone Zhivago, Match Girl gone Engine that Could and Miles to go before I sleep. A few years ago, maybe a few minutes ago, a winter trek seemed an invigorating challenge, a magical adventure. Today in her sixties, she thought first of dying for trying, and finally ....... the Theme from Rocky!