One windless night, just beyond my bedroom window, Fowler Lake froze, luminous as mercury glass.

Ever the social caboose of my class, pre-teen me hunkered in bed. Crushing thoughts made it hard to breathe. No grace for being me.

I woke to 99 acres of gleaming ice: no pocks or blisters. Nary a wrinkle. Picture the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool. Now picture 12 of them, frozen, side by side, shaved smooth by an epic Zamboni.

I pulled on my figure skates, freestyled across the ultimate playground. Greenish-black depths glinted with bubbles seemingly lit from below.

Translucence draws us. The pristine awes us. Who doesn’t want to coast and glide and skim, grab each hem of these shirttail verbs related to wheel and rise and soar?

Who can skate around the whole lake?

How far (and how fast) is enough? [Read more…]