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.