All I could think about was my discomfort. The cold air rushed passed my ears, which made them throb in pain. My lungs sympathized with my ears and felt pain as well.
All I could think about was the beauty of breathing. The cold air filled my lungs and I remembered I was alive.
Sometimes, comfort isn’t what I need. Sometimes I need cold air.
Hold Up My Hands 
i think sometimes we all do.
well put together