Ice Fishing

Photo by Anna Chanakas

It’s six o’clock on a Sunday morning and I put on six layers of clothing to hit the streets of Cleveland for my weekly jog. Crazy I know since I’m not a huge fan of winter. However, I couldn’t help but be enamored with the shards of glass that were once waves lapping along the beach. This is still my lake in a frozen mass where I couldn’t see beyond the enormous waves blocking the horizon line. I stood knee deep in snow wondering how the lake feels, so still without nobody to play with.

I stupidly jog along a snow covered pier slowly in case I slip – I turn 360 degrees to make sure the lake is solid. I’m amazed how beautiful it is as I stare not wanting to leave. As I leave, I hear a tapping noise; I soon realize two gentleman are hitting the solid ice to do some ice fishing. All these weeks I’ve been running along the pier, this was a first. I couldn’t see how they were going to make a hole but they kept at it–tap, tap, tap.

No way was I going to stand in the middle of the lake to fish or do anything else. What if the waves gave way and the lake begins to move grabbing life into its wake. I can clearly see it’s solid but what if that one spot cracks? Too much of a gamble for my taste. I’ll just look at its elegance from the ground, thank you. 

Photo by Anna chanakas

I tore myself away from the tapping sound and continued on my way. I’m just as crazy as those two fishermen as I run in ankle deep snow. I have my route and I run as if it’s a spring day. I carefully run down to the beach where the snow drifts are inhibiting my pace; I walked. I couldn’t tell where the sand ended and where the waves began. It was stark white so I couldn’t see – I made it to the edge as my feet got heavier and heavier. It was hard to pace myself as the snow impeded my judgment. I walked as best as I could, alone. I turned away from the waves and lost my footing falling onto the soft snow leaving a snow angel behind. No one was around so if I get hurt, it’s my own fault. Stupid!

I’m resilient so I found my way onto the snow covered stairs balancing my way up. Again, I wasn’t exactly running more like a staggered walk. Not only didn’t I have my balance but The Cleveland Metroparks decided to put a chain link fence around all the stair wells. I’m sure they want to repair the shoddy stairs but I didn’t care as I climbed the twenty or so stairs then pulling my legs over the chain linked fence. A shiny new fence is not going to deter me from the beach even though it’s snow covered. 

It is a gamble for sure running in the early morning darkness but that’s what I love about it–the quietness. It’s my way of being surrounded by nature one step at a time. I could hear the birds, squirrels and other wildlife trying to survive this brutal winter. It’s a crisp morning but I’m not shivering since I’m moving my legs and arms. At one point, I take off my gloves as the blood rushes into my finger tips. The wind blows ever so slightly as I climb a small incline trying not to slip on the ice. I’m a jogger but not a fast one. I go a pace where my heart pumps and my breathing increases–just to say I’m working out. 

I probably run five miles, give or take. I’m exhausted and excited when I finally stop. I’m finished with my route and I can finally walk home. Thrilled that I got a workout in and was able to celebrate the crispness of the day. Winter is not my favorite season but I’m happy to run regardless of the weather. I embrace the day whatever it brings. I’ve jogged in pouring rain, wind gusts and snow storms – it’s just once a week so I “suck it up.” I’m always delighted when I finish, patting myself on the back that I made it out the door and endured the elements. Every season has its challenges – summer gets hot when I walk home sweaty but each Sunday I’m thankful that I can run and enjoy my Lake Erie. I can’t image living anywhere else.