I went seven miles in the snow last weekend. It was all parts amazing, freezing, hard, easy, long, quick.
I miss my Minnesota winters. Whenever it snows here, I scheme up ways to get out and enjoy as much of it as possible– and let me tell you, this did the trick. Nothing is quite like the silence of snow falling, or the crunching of it beneath your feet. Or the way it blinds you as it hits your eyeballs.
I took Mowgli with me, and within our first mile he had ice clumps on his paws. Once I defrosted those, I was on the look-out the rest of the trip for them (but they didn’t appear. Is there some science behind this?). I thought we would have the trail to ourselves, but apparently many other Delawarians soldiered out for a run–or bike ride– that morning.
As it turns out, I was wildly underdressed. My fleece, running tights, and hat were soaked through by the time I was done. My legs was freezing and red to the touch, even though my muscles were warm.
But I was happy. Seven miles is the farthest I’ve ever run in my life, and I got some quality time with my very-much-missed snowy weather.