The First of March

The First of March is a glorious day in Rexburg, Idaho. It means that I made it through February. Before I moved up to Rexburg in 2006, I took a tour of the BYU-Idaho campus with my sister, Maxene, and my dad in December. As we walked the windy sidewalks on campus Maxene and I complained about how cold it was. My dad replied, "If you think this is cold, just wait till February."

At the time I thought he was just kidding, but little did I know in a few months I would know exactly what he was talking about. Let me paint a picture of what Rexburg looks like in February:

• Boogers freeze to your nose hairs
• Students fall to their butts as they slip on black ice
• People push stalled cars at every block
• At lease ten degrees below zero every night
• Jeans become stiffer than a board
• Sacrificing fashion for warmth

One semester Maxene and I took a night class together every Wednesday night. One night our teacher announced that it was negative 13 degrees outside. He said we had about three minutes to get into a warm place before we would get frost bite. Three minutes? I barely had enough time to put on my gloves, scarf, and hat. I wanted to cry. That night we ran home as fast as we could without slipping on the black ice.

March 20 is the first day of spring. I cannot wait until that day arrives; however, I am ecstatic that I made it through February. I know it is all downhill from here. I feel like a bear waking up from a long winters nap. Three months and seven pounds later, I am ready to get out of hibernating and start running again in nicer weather.

Dad always knows best.