The ground drank that snow like a college kid hitting a beer
during spring break in Florida.
Our St. Paddy’s snow lasted about as long as bipartisanship in Congress.
Herself went out for a short run yesterday afternoon and reported that the trails were barely tacky. And this morning is as you see.
When the weather gets goofy like this I miss running. It’s such a convenient workout when God is pitching changeups at you. Efficient. Minimal gear. No coasting.
A 45-minute trail run isn’t long enough to be boring, and it doesn’t gnaw off a sizable chunk of your day the way cycling does. You can get started early, and finish early, too. Nobody honks at you, unless you’re running past a goose with attitude.
Running and swimming are probably our purest forms of exercise, although an indoor pool is an expensive accessory. You can always acquire property on some placid sandy beach in a tropical paradise, but that’s even pricier than a Y membership.
And the ocean likes to go for a run every now and then too. Sometimes it takes you with it.
Oh, Lord, I can feel myself getting talked into it. Running, not swimming; we got sand, but this ain’t no tropical paradise. My feets have already failed me once. Spring can’t come soon enough.
