I got up to run yesterday morning excited to go for it in a Christmas present of cold-weather running gear (pullover and winter weight tights). The gift was an unexpected one from my sister-in-law, and I liked some of the features including a mock neck and a slit in the sleeve so I could easily see my watch. Zippered pockets were a nice touch, too.
It was 12 outside. Degrees. I went.
Two pairs of gloves, a balaclava, and a thick/warm headband completed the outfit. Gusting wind and overcast skies completed the weather. A soft blanket of Christmas Day snow completed the scene.
My steps were short at first due to the cold (and the long car ride the day before). Once I loosened up and got going, though, the weather was a non-factor. Yes, it was brisk. When the wind blew I could definitely feel it. But it was quiet and beautiful and the peace of the season surrounded me.
The stresses of the last few months--at least for an hour--subsided. It was just me and the road and the wind. I crossed the Jackson River twice and passed between snow-covered hills on either side. The sounds of the rail yard signaled a return to life after the holiday, but it was a gentle start--not a rush.
As my run wound down, my strides lengthened and got me up the last mile of steady incline. In the end it wasn't easy, but it wasn't too hard either. It was just right.
I got up to run today. It was 12 outside. Again. I went.
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