When The Thrill Is Gone

Our climbing skins crunch over the snow with each quick stride, cold and fast under the still and dark sky. Panting for breath, I ascend a small rise onto a cat track, the last in a group of four. There, the view opens of the clear sky, dark as pitch in the predawn, gleaming with endless stars beyond the silhouette of towering pines. But I take no time to look up for more than an instant. 
I plunge my poles into the snow behind me, helping propel me forward, trying to glide every inch I can