I wish I could say I run like the wind; instead I can say that I run with the wind. The snowy blowy wind. These winter days, in -10 and -15 and -20 temps, with or without snow falling, and always with snow crunching and squeaking under the soles of my feet, I have been building an intimate relationship with winter unlike perhaps any I’ve had before. If you call it a friendship, I’d say winter is an introvert. If you call it a date, I’d say winter is not very warm nor forthcoming with self-declarations, leaving me guessing much of the time. If you call it marriage, I’d say the warmth of the companionship comes from a lot of hot tea and soup. Mostly, I can honestly say the good days far outweigh the bad days. In fact, it’s been quite a ride so far!
Generally, as I run three or four times per week, winter and I are becoming great friends. Some days we quarrel, but never do we end a run without apologizing and having some beautiful peaceful moments together. When we disagree, it’s meant in love. When we agree, we become closer than ever.
Some days, I imagine I am a horse running across the fields at top speed (even though I go the speed of a turtle). Other days I imagine I am a fox, running with sleek and silent paws through the woods on snowy hidden trails. Sometimes I imagine I am an owl, flying with sharp eyes looking for what is coming. Often I imagine I am me, going slower than I would like, but loving every minute of it.