All Downhill From Here

I know the calendar says March. I know we just celebrated St. Patrick’s Day, and Valentines was a month ago. I just bought more eggs to decorate for Easter, but this morning’s run felt like February. Of course, several of my February runs felt like May, so I guess winter had to come sometime.

I got up early, had a slice of bread and honey with ginger-mint tea, and headed out the door at shortly before 7 am. I wasn’t really looking forward to running in the snow in March. In October it’s a novelty. In “winter months” it’s a necessity, but I’ve been awfully spoiled with lots of dry pavement lately, and I wasn’t relishing having to run with my jacket on again.

It really wasn’t that bad. The snow was fluffy and more than an inch deep. No nasty wind, but a playful breeze that blew big, wet snowflakes into my face no matter which direction I turned. The snowflakes tickled and made my skin itch as they melted on my nose and cheeks. The snow was deep enough to do that styrofoam squeak when I pushed off, but not slippery on the flat.

I was all alone on my boulevard, if you don’t count everyone driving to work. I counted 9 vehicles in line at the Tim Horton’s drive thru, 4 more out front, and one had just pulled into the lot and was deciding between the two. The scent of coffee and baking as I ran by was divine. On the way back I was fascinated by my footprints in the snow. It seems my toes turn out ever so slightly. I don’t feel like they turn out, but they do.