On The Run - 12/19/08 - Why I Run . . .

2.70 mi / 41.55 min / 15:28 mpm

That 16 mpm barrier shattered! In the snow even!

Greetings from Washington State!

Weather reports all week were snow, snow and more snow. I didn't broach the subject of running with the wife. It was bad enough that I insisted on running in the rain in SD a couple of days ago - but running in the snow in Washington?? . . . don't get her started . . .

But I am on a streak! 19 days and counting!

Things got somewhat complicated this morning when the wife got up with the baby before me. I had planned on an early morning exit and a note on the counter; "Went running, Love you!"

I pulled on socks, shorts, a long-sleeve t-shirt, sweatshirt, shoes, hat, gloves and headlamp. I had left my denim jacket at home as there was no room in the luggage and I had hopes of borrowing a light jacket from the father-in-law.

As I crept down the hall to the living room, I braced myself for the inevitable "where do you think you are going??" questions. To her credit, the wife just looked at me askance as she sat cozy warm on the couch feeding the rug-rat.

I searched the hall closet for a jacket to borrow to no avail . . . "Oh, well", I figured, "I will head out and see what happens, I can always turn around and come back . . ." We are making due . . .

I did my stretching in the living room and headed out into the 28 degree darkness . . .

I clicked on the headlamp, qued up my James Taylor Christmas album and started down the center of the deserted snow-covered street.

As the cold winter air stole the warmth of the house from my clothes I began to wonder, "Hmmm . . . exactly how cold am I going to get??"

I pointed out to myself that if I finished this run, the next time I was in bed at home, debating whether I wanted to head out . . . I can always fall back on, "You ran in the darkness - in the snow - 28 degrees - in shorts and a sweatshirt - suck it up and get out of bed . . ."

Turns out I was just fine. The walking / running kept me plenty warm as I stuck to the roughed up center of the streets - avoiding the lanes on either side where the cars had compacted the snow into sheets of ice.

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful!

Deserted snow-covered streets. . . The smell of wood stoves burning . . . Christmas lights left on all night . . . my breath rising in the light of my headlamp as I ran through pools of light from the streetlamps bouncing off the snow as if the roads were paved with diamonds . . .

I have mentioned it before but it may bear repeating . . . I used to scoff at my runner friends . . . nothing sounded less appealing than running . . . and yet . . . so many of my friends were running marathons that I could not deny that there must be something to it . . . It was a (very fit) co-worker that finally tipped the scales for me.

We were having one of those off-handed conversations in the office and I mentioned that just about every one of my friends was a runner.

"Oh, I love to run . . ." she said. Then she went on to explain that her and her husband travelled a lot and one of the best ways of staying in shape on the road was running. No matter where you are in the world, if you have a pair of shoes, you can run - and there is no better way to see a new city than to run it as opposed to driving . . .

I had the whole world to myself this morning - Christmas lights glistening off the snow, smoke coming from chimneys, James Taylor on the Ipod and the scruntch, scruntch, scruntch of the snow under my feet . . .

I wondered to myself, which do I enjoy more? Being out here like this or being bundled up inside on the couch with a warm drink staring at it all through the front window?? Both are pretty great . . . but . . . how many countless mornings and evenings have I spent bundled up inside?

This was the first time I had ever experienced running like this . . . Not really an opportunity that presents itself in sunny San Diego too often . . . I made a mental note to seize the opportunity every time it presents itself . . .

You can never capture a sunset. The moment you turn away to tell a friend to stop and look, the colors change and you are now looking at a different sunset. It unfolds and reveals and recedes right before your eyes.

That's what it felt like this morning. Oh, sure, the family will get up and see the snow and the streets and the smoke curling up from the chimneys - but they won't see it at the exact moment I did. For all I know, I am the only one in all the world that witnessed the unfolding of this particular snow-filled Christmas morning at the moment that I did.

With no one to share it with, I whispered a prayer . . . "God, are you seeing this? Its beautiful . . . "

"Yeah, I see it . . . it sure is . . ." came the reply . . .



UPDATE:

As I was typing this post, long time friends pulled up out front and my wife went running out to their car barefoot. In the snow. The same wife who didn't want me out in the snow with all my gear . . . Christmas does funny things to people . . .