I woke up yesterday to a cold front covering Joburg. Like most people (I imagine) I entertained the thought of staying in bed, warmly wrapped up. But I got up, dressed for crossfit, and went to get my morning exercise done. Yes it was cold, but the feeling of satisfaction afterwards was invigorating. After that I took my dog for a walk up the Melville koppies. Even though I bundled myself up tightly in layers, I could feel the biting wind on my face and hands. When I got to the top of the koppies, I turned towards the oncoming wind, put my hands out, and let the kiss of the cold air roll over me.
I suddenly thought then that this is what being alive is. The ability to feel, to experience, to push yourself, to feel the blood rushing through your veins, to feel your nose becoming frosted over. To feel, no matter what. We tend to avoid discomfort, pain, extremes, but the cold show us that we’re alive, just as much as the warmth does. One isn’t better than the other – both are equally important to truly experience life.