Woolgathering

Winter's sticking around. Flurries outside, daily. Our parking lot slowly taken over by snowpiles which gradually metamorphose to ice piles. I'm comforted by worse temperatures in North Dakota in two ways: 1. That it could be worse here and, 2. Memories of my time in the bitter cold. I'm getting hardier, and this year I actually felt happy when the temperature dropped again with the thought of my cross country skies in the garage, waiting for another woosh-wooshhh in the snow.

 

And yet, last night I spent the evening flipping through all my old Runner's Worlds, wanting to train for another marathon. I told myself no. Only a half, or a 10k. I pondered races, locations and timing, since I'm drawing to a end here in nine months. There's something about running- it's never going to disappear from my life. This time there was a 1-2 month hiatus. I always go back to it. For fifteen years now.

 

I wonder where I'll be next year at this time. It's an unknown, but something that pops into my head often as I look at the Christmas lights, and the snow. Christmas abroad again doesn't bring sadness or loneliness, but maybe I've trained myself too good in the art of independence.