slices of perfection

There is nothing quite like an empty arena. Right after the zamboni is finished, all is silent, it is just you and the ice. The crisp smell fills your senses as you stand at the entrance gazing upon perfection. A clean, flat, pure sheet of untouched ice. And it is all for you.
One push out onto it and you are home. That cutting sound that takes you back, and away. The world around you stops temporarily and it is just you. You, your skates, the ice, and your empty arena.You proceed, slowly at first, listening to the elongated slice... slice... slice.
Then faster, you turn, sending up a spray of the thin layer of water left by the zamboni that has not yet had time to freeze. Faster and faster you circle the rink reveling in the pure silence, save your rapid footwork.
You pause, gliding now, allowing the ice to take you where it will. You throw your head back, and your arms in the air, and breathe deep, taking it all in.
Knowing that this is something that no one can ever take from you, its all yours, and it's perfect.

This is my moment of perfection, my slice of heaven. What is yours?