My Dad lives on a mountain. Big hills, no sidewalks, curves. Basically a wussy runner's nightmare. Throw snow into the mix and I'm out. I spent most of Friday night obsessively checking weather.com, watching as the chance for snow went up, and up, and up. I decided that I would move my long run from Saturday to Sunday to avoid the possibility of death by car.
8:00am Saturday morning: no snow. 9:00am still no snow. I started to get cranky. Mad at myself for being such a wuss. Finally, it started to snow and I felt better. I ate my french toast and enjoyed a day spent entirely in my pajamas.
Of course, not running on Saturday means I had to run today. The sky was clear and the sun was shining but it was WINDY. As in "stop in your tracks because you can't breathe, feel like your skin is being ripped off your face, snow blowing and hampering your inability to see" windy. I had to turn up the volume on my iPod because the wind was so loud.
I put on layers, silently thanked my mother in law for all the crocheted headbands she has made me, and navigated my way up my Dad's sorta kinda plowed driveway. Thankfully, the majority of the run was uneventful. There weren't enough cars on the roads to scare me into a snowbank and I only had to stop twice to brace myself against the buffeting winds.
I'm thankful that I have a race on the schedule, thankful that I have a goal to reach for. If I didn't, I would totally stay wrapped up in blankets on my Dad's couch and not move for the rest of our visit. As it is, I plan on doing nothing for the rest of the day.
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