I once climbed to the peak of Mt. Kinabalu, an extreme climb compared to the measly hills I ever hiked in New Jersey. I remember thinking for the last third of the climb that I should just jump off the mountain. Of course it was only a comical thought for temporary relief, but man oh man, it was hard. With each new giant step up, I detached further and further from my mind as my body began to take over. Like my lungs expanding with each new breath, my legs just moved, one right after another.
When I finally made it to the peak and watched the sunrise, I realized it was all worth it. Every giant step. Every little stumble. Every single self-doubt. It was absolute beautiful bliss.
And then something happened. I had to climb back down. I know, I know...what goes up, must come down, but this, THIS WAS BRUTAL. I think about the month of March the way I think about that climb (stumble) down. It should be easier than what came before it, but somehow, it's not. It's still cold even though my mind is sick of winter and ready for spring. Everything is still barren even though you swear those buds mean spring will HAVE to start tomorrow. It's just a month of moody blues for me. And guess what? That's okay. My knees might have ached with every single step down that mountain, but I made my way through.
March, you ain't got nothing on me. And to be honest, I kind of really dig deep, moody blues.