I woke up Saturday morning to see snow on the ground and more falling. Because of weather, schedule, and laziness, I hadn’t been for a run since Tuesday, and it was high time. I bundled up and headed out.
I like how snow seems to muffle sound. The town was very quiet when I made my way to the park. It was a wet snow which had started as rain late Friday night, so my feet made a sloshy noise as they hit the pavement. I was thankful that there didn’t seem to be any ice under the snow; I didn’t slip once.
I was the first one at the park that morning, as evidenced by the lack of footprints or car tracks. Only the squirrels, rabbits, and deer had disturbed the white blanket that covered the grass and the trail.
The wet snow clung to the tree branches, making lacy patterns in the sky, and to my shoes, making running a difficult task. People say running in sand is a good workout. I say running in snow is at least as good. My quads were burning by the end of two miles, even with some breaks for walking, so I took it easy on the way back home.
I like running in the snow. I like the silence and the crisp air.
And I like returning to a warm house.