Up and Out in the Morning

This has been a bad week for running.  I have not gotten motivated enough to give up sleep and make it happen in the morning.  And I have been home too late in the evening to really make a go of it.  Too many things to balance.  We a had a friend visiting for three nights and, of course, we stayed up late to hang.  He did come all the way from California.  This morning, however, I finally rallied for a morning run.

It wasn’t long.  I had to get back so I could get myself and the kids ready for the day.  But it was fine.  I left when it was light enough to see (no headlamp required) but the sun had not yet risen.  It was the perfect morning, although it was cold (26 degrees when I left the house).  I had no regrets about losing a little sleep.

There is a time when the world feels perfectly at peace.  The light creeps over the hills but the sun will not appear for a bit.  The eastern sky is pink or golden.  The blackbirds are beginning to chirp their chorus.  The frost glows.  The air is still.  No one else seems to be stirring.  The river shushes smoothly under the bridge.  It is quiet except for the waking birds and the sound of my feet.

That is the morning I had.  The mud was mostly frozen, so it was easy to navigate the rutted road–no sinking into the mire.  I crunched along past the fields, through the woods, onto the open road and over the hill to see the sun toss its head over the mountains.  And then the world was bright.  I felt the warm spring angle of that sun immediately, my layers instantly too much.  As I trotted north, the light flashed through the bare trees like the light from an old reel projector.

So maybe it wasn’t a bad week for running.  I haven’t gotten in many miles but this morning sure did feel like it made up for it.  It was peaceful.  It was beautiful.  I felt great.  I came home feeling calm and ready for what might come.  As I turned from the road onto our long driveway, I felt  happy to be alive, that this day was a gift.  I felt as though I was starting, right that moment, with days and days of living to come.  And hopefully, I am.

If I do not have those days and days left before I reach the great whatever it is that comes after this life, it will not have been a bad day to end on.  I hope, however, to have many more mornings like this one.

Moisture in Multiple Forms

It is raining.  Not a warm spring rain, but a cold rain.  It is damp.  Chilly.  It is getting dark.  We have a fire in the stove.  Our house is cozy.

The ground is saturated.  The streams and gullies are full.  The lawn has pools.  The children have fun jumping in the drainage ditch next to the driveway.  It is wet.

Yesterday it snowed.  We woke to white, on the ground and falling.  It came down heavily for a while.  By afternoon it had melted.  We got mud.  The roads were wet when I ran.  Soggy.  I got dirty from splashing muck.

A few days ago we had fog.  Rain, snow, mud, fog.  Things are wet all over.  The ground has thawed out for the most part.  It won’t be long before things start to dry, but today we have moisture.

It’s Sog City.  I am glad to be inside.  It will feel good to crawl into bed tonight.  I might just do it earlier than usual.  Read a good book and conk out.  That way I can get up early and run.  Or not.  If it is still raining, I just might stay under the covers, safe from all the water beasts.

Waiting for Spring

Today I ran and it was cold.  Yesterday I had a wintry run as well–it was blowing like stink and snowing like stink and I could hardly see where I was going.  Today was colder and windier but without the snow.  The ground was frozen.  It was basically winter.  Mark Breen, the meteorologist on Vermont Public Radio, offered today that Vermont had, with the exception of extreme northeast Alaska, the coldest weather in the United States.  Something to be proud of?

The problem with running in weather like today’s is one of temperature regulation.  Out in the open, the north wind was bearing down hard, and my wind layers separated me from frostbitten extremities.  Once I got into the shelter of a hill, with the sun shining, I started sweating down the back of my neck–too hot.  I ran an out-and-back and when I turned around at the halfway point, I headed directly into the north wind that had so helpfully been pushing me onward.  It bit.

So I sweated and froze, alternately.  On average I was just about right.  Yesterday the snow stung my cheeks and slicked up the frozen just-the-day-before-muddy road.  It was treacherous, or at least it felt so.  It was less dangerous than it may have appeared, considering I was never really more than a few miles from home.  It sure didn’t feel like spring.

I won’t run tomorrow but will lace on the shoes again Wednesday or Thursday, my schedule permitting.  Wednesday promises temperatures in the fifties–T-shirt weather for this time of year.  Of course, in September, 50 degrees will feel like the ice age has returned, but in spring, bust out the flip flops.  So I wait for spring.  Running is just so much easier when the weather is warm.  I have to wear fewer layers, I can leave the gloves at home, and I just feel looser.

If I want to make any kind of mileage goals I need to run when it is cold.  I live in Vermont.  I briefly considered applying for a job in California recently, but only briefly.  Apparently one can run in shorts year-round in the climes I was considering.  That might be nice, but I have to admit, running when the snow blows so hard I can’t see is kind of invigorating.  It is easier to run when it is warm, but it feels awfully nice to run in warm weather after running in cold weather.  I would miss getting pelted in the face by tiny beads of ice.  I am not sure, but I might even be proud of that.

Signs of Spring

1. Redwinged blackbirds are back in force, causing a ruckus down by the river.

2. Geese are flying overhead, retracing the routes they followed a few months ago.  They settle in fields and on the water, honking away.

3. Vultures are back as well, soaring high overheard in their slient graceful circles.

4. Killdeer fly low over the frozen meadows, whistling out their songs to each other.

5. Runners have come out of the woodwork.  How can there be so many?  Saturday morning at 7:00 I saw scores of them.  Where were they when I was plodding out the miles in January?

6. Teenagers, who already shun outerwear even on the coldest days, are baring arms and legs.  It’s 45 degrees!  Bust out the flip flops!

7. It is muddy.  The children love it.  They stomp in it, scoop it, splash it about.  They squish and shape and mold it.  Some roads are treacherous with the slip and slide.

8. We set the table (well, the small one from the porch) out on the hard lawn and had dinner outside for the first time this year.  That was all my daughter’s idea.  Then, in the night, the wind blew over the chairs we forgot to put away.  Wind, too, is a sign of spring.

9. The long days make for more play time for all of us.  Daylight savings, that ridiculous habit, means the children fall asleep too late and can’t wake up in the morning.

10. I am starting to itch for summer.  Where did I leave my sandals?

One More Snowman

Born at the End of the Day

Born at the End of the Day

At the moment, water drips from the eave onto the deck.  It almost sounds like it is raining.  It is, however, snowing.  It has snowed for much of the day.  It was coming down thickly when I left for work this morning and it was snowing heavily again when I came home.  It comes down now.

The children made a snowman with their mother after I returned from my grueling labors attempting to educate high school students.  “It was the easiest snowman I have ever made,” exclaimed my spouse as she returned from the sculpture project.  Apparently, the snow was perfect for such activity.  The children stayed outside for a while after this.  When I went out in my tall black boots, the wet snow covering my bare head, to gather them for our evening meal, they had started on a “snow wall.”  This was a series of large snowballs, such as the ones one might use to create a snowman, lined up next to the driveway.  Their art knows no bounds.

We may get more snow.  March is fickle that way.  Two days ago we were out enjoying the warm air, a sweater more than enough.  Today we have snow.  Since we still have the majority of the month left, I imagine we will get some spring and some winter before April comes around.  This could be the last snowman, however.  Perfect snow like this doesn’t come around every day, even in March.

Getting Muddy and Gathering Trash

Those were the two highlights of the day.  My wife went skiing for most of the day.   I stayed home with the children.  We stayed inside for a bit to let them get their craziness and creative play out.  Then we had lunch of tortillas and cucumbers.  Then we headed outside.

We took a walk down the road.  We spent a good deal of time exploring the ditch that runs along our road.  The town road crew has spent lots of time over the past couple of years clearing and improving road drainage in town.  Last year they got by our way.  The ditch is filled with ice, which is covered in sand and dirt, which is mostly just under the surface of the flowing melting snow.  I was cautious about letting the children walk on it at first but it was solid and we hopped back and forth all down the road.

We also picked up trash which consisted mainly of discarded beer cans and bottles.  There were many.  The children had fun both spotting them (“I see one under that bush!” “That one is buried in the sand!”) and fishing them from their various hiding places.  We couldn’t carry them all so we set up stations of them along the roadside.  We wouldn’t have been able to carry them back either so we left them to pick up later, cairns of aluminum and glass for drivers to wonder about.

We cut across the field to get back home.  It was rutted and frozen and muddy and wet.  Not all in the same place, of course, but we found some mixed terrain.  By the time we made it back, the children were wet and muddy.  “My feet are chilly,” explained the boy child.  His boots were soaked through.  Plus, he hadn’t bothered to wear socks.  Despite this, they stayed outside for a while before heading in to clean up.

They played outside together for a good chunk of time after they did get cleaned up.  Then they had to clean up again.  They each went through three sets of clothes today, not including the pajamas they wore this morning.  They got wet and muddy more than once.

Last summer I bought a pair of tall rubber boots.  They were one of the best purchases I have ever made.  Those things can take me anywhere and I am confident going.  Hike across a wet muddy field?  No probs, babe.  Step in a ditch of meltwater?  Easy.  Hike to meet the bus in the rain?  You bet.  Those puppies served me well today.

Tomorrow I will need to head down the road and collect those bottles and cans.  I hate seeing all that garbage on my road.  What gives with someone who will toss their empties for someone else to clean up?  That’s crap, if you ask me.  Heck, even if you don’t ask me, it’s still crap.  In any case it will give me a good excuse to take the kids for another walk.  Maybe we can see if the spiders are still crawling all over the grass by the big culvert.  And if they don’t want to come with me, it will feel good to gather the refuse and see that it makes it to the recycling bin.

Somebody’s got to take care of the empties.  If the end user won’t do it, that selfish butt, I will take it on myself.

Robins and Blackbirds

Robins on High

Robins on High

The kids and I went for a ramble this afternoon down the muddy road to the river. We checked out the ice flowing over the fields and the ice on the river. We felt the rain on our faces and smelled the melting snow. Our boots squished in the mud. And we saw lots of birds.

First, we saw and heard about 100 robins. It must have been the same flock I saw yesterday. Apparently the harbingers of spring are ready to get that season rolling. We also heard and saw red-winged blackbirds. I consider those much more of a spring sign than robins. Robins often can be seen all winter, while blackbirds always head south in the fall. When they are back, spring can’t be far off.

We also saw a flock of waxwings and listened to them cheerp high in a leafless maple. And, of course, we saw bluebirds. The bluebirds never left. And there were bluejays and ravens, the usual winter noisemakers. It felt like a day of winter-turning-to-spring. We have more winter in store. It will get into the single digits within the next few days. But once the red-winged blackbirds are back, winter doesn’t have much longer before the green starts busting out.

And then we will have snipes and woodcocks and sparrows and warblers and all the rest. I can hardly wait to welcome them back.

A Western Day

It was a day that made me feel that I was in the west.  The sky was clear blue and the winter air made it seem I could see forever.  The snow on the mountains shone brightly in the sun.  Everything seemed to be in high relief.  It was a high contrast perfect type of day.

It never rose about freezing.  The highest temperature I noted was 27 degrees.   The sun, however, warmed things enough that the children ran around for a couple of hours without jackets.  I trust that they know when they are cold.  They will ask for more clothes if they need them.  Today they were good to go with sweatshirts.

The air was dry.  I ran six miles this afternoon, abandoning my winter hat not long into it for a brimmed cap.  Once I warmed up I did not worry about frostbite on my ears even with a breeze.  The sun is higher now.  Two months ago the same temperature and wind conditions and clear skies would not have felt so warm.  Spring arrives in one month.

I felt tired running today.  I might be fighting off the sickeness that my wife managed to catch.  She spiked a fever.  She never spikes a fever.  If I had even a touch of that business, it makes sense that I would be tuckered after six miles.  Although, admittedly, I felt tired even at mile one.  What gives with that?  But I slogged it out slowly and felt fairly good by the time I got back.  I hope tomorrow gets me going in better shape than that.

My run today reminded me of runs I have taken in the west–cold, clear days with air that feels fresh.  It only feels that way around here in the winter.  The trees are bare so I can see much farther and the air is dry.  We rarely get that dry air here in the summer.  We get plenty of humidity and lots of green.  I don’t think of that as western.

There is a good chance we will get a storm later this week.  Tomorrow will be another beauty and I am taking it off for President’s Day.  I need to celebrate my patriotism and all that.  Wave a few flags and remember the deeds of great men.  I will do some playing of some sort.  We head to the Adirondacks in a week.  I am hoping we get a blast of snow in time for that.  Then we can do lots of playing, western day or not.

Getting in a Few Miles

So the deal is this.  I would like to run the Vermont 50 in September.  That’s 50 miles.  I’ve done it before.  I wanted to do it this past fall.  That was not in the cards.  I have plenty of time to make it happen.  I’ll tell you, though, it isn’t easy to get the miles in during the winter.  It is cold, it is slippery, I have to wear lots of clothing, I get sweaty, the roads are narrower, I use more energy, yada yada yada.

My schedule needs to match well in the winter, too.  Getting up early is fine when the sun gets up early, but these days I need to be long home by the time the sun gets to rising.  I do love to run early, but when it is 1 degree, like this morning, and dark and breezy and slippery…  You see where I’m headed.

This is why people don’t do things like this, I realize.  It is easy to make excuses.  It is easy to make other things a priority.  It is the accumulation of runs that makes it attractive to me.  Any given run might be a drag, or it might be amazing, but piling them all up makes for some feel-good stuff.  So I need to make it happen.

It will take time, I know that.  I will do a couple more short weeks of twenty miles or so.  Then I need to start getting in some longer runs.  By the time spring comes, I will hopefully be in the position to take advantage of the warmer weather right away.  When I ran the marathon in Burlington every year, I was always amazed at how many people I would see running once it got warm out.  I would have the roads to myself, as I do now, until the fair weather runners came out.

Already I feel pretty good.  Today was 10 degrees but I felt fine.  I got in a few miles before I had to meet my daughter getting off the bus.  I will run again this weekend, both Saturday and Sunday if all goes well.  I won’t get in that many miles for the week, but enough for now.  Once I get into it, I look forward to the next run.  I am starting to feel that way now.  My run today was too short.  I can’t wait until I can take the time to run the eleven mile loop.

That will feel like I am getting in the miles.  Then maybe 50 miles will seem within reach.