The trees flashed by in a blur of grey and green, leafless branches snapping and rustling in the wind. My muscles screamed as I picked up speed, tearing down the road, the bicycle moving rhythmically beneath me. I tightened my grip on the handlebars as the pavement worsened, littered with twigs and rocks, destroyed by years of snow and rain. Snowflakes whirled past me in the cold, bitter air, tiny, perfect points of white that parted to let me through. The cold nipped at the bared skin of my face, but I ignored it, peddling faster. The trees thinned out as I turned the corner, revealing the ice coated lake. A board had been nailed to a tree, warning that the ice was thin in broad, white letters, but I was moving too fast to read it. The road suddenly sloped downwards. I squeezed hard on the brakes, panic surging like a wave within me. But I failed to see the ice that coated the last stretch of road.