Driveway Gym

There's no need to belong to a gym when you live along the shoreline of Lake Michigan, and not for reasons you might think.  My house is about a mile away from the beach, so naturally, you'd assume that I am referring to summer walks, but I'm not.  What it all boils down to is the three-word phrase heard too many times this winter, "lake effect snow".  Nothing works up a sweat like bundling up in your heaviest, most insulated under and outer garments to attack the six inches of new snow in your driveway.  I use that verb because after two months of constantly pushing, lifting, and throwing at least three pounds of weight per scoop, a strategy is necessary.  It's only the beginning of February, and what was filling the driveway, has become two parallel piles, seven feet high, like a fortress guarding our only way in to the garage.  

Before the piles, shoveling wasn't that bad, but now, when I pick up that snow shovel, my mind is saying, "...time to attack the driveway".  It's not a pretty picture watching my attempts to throw what I've collected up and over the mountainous sidelines.  It doesn't sound good, either.  I know grunting doesn't give me more strength but, somehow, there is a certain amount of satisfaction in letting out a guttural "uuuhhh" with each heave-ho.

About an hour later, after trying a different pattern of runways, I consider which plan was best, yesterday's or today's.  The amount of pain in my neck and back is my unit of measurement.  Sometimes, there isn't any, but when there is, here's a tip for getting rid of the pain:  lie down on the snow, and let it be nature's icepack.  Do that until your overworked body is cooled down, and then go take a nice hot shower.  Don't forget to drink lots of water.  See?  Just like going to the gym.

All kinds of angles are formed when you're pushing a shovel through snow, so I had to choose this picture called, "Angles of Driftwood".