Keep breathing. That's the key. Breathe.
Gimli gives some good advice. I kept muttering these words of wisdom as I wearily plowed through the snow, trying to ignore the pain in my abdomen. To my horror, I realized that Gimli and I are actually remarkable similar. We're both rather plump dwarves with rockin' beards and a preference for axes.
Would you rather slowly die from exposure or a stitch? I finally decided that the stitch would be somewhat faster demise, so I continued running. And breathing.
그것은 너무 아파!! I moaned, Korean for "It hurts so bad!" Impressed? It's one of two Korean phrases I know...
The birds didn't help me much. They were generally silent and unsympathetic toward my plight. Cruel, stinging snowflakes whipped into my face and down my neck. In reality, I enjoyed the snow, but bear with me--I've got to try to make this sound as horrid as possible.
My toils produced only five new SWSA birds. All were thoroughly unremarkable with the exception of Winter Wren. I was pounding down an icy boardwalk when a small, brown mouse flew out from under my feet. I did a double take. Mice don't usually fly (unless they've been blown out of metal pipes, but that's a story for another day), and the combination of cold and pain had me delusional enough to suspect it might be a Winter Wren. And a Winter Wren it was, looking simultaneously cute and cold and wretched.
I kept running. And breathing. And tucking my beard into my sweatshirt--it gets irritating when it blows around so much.
