Running on the Snow

I never thought I'd catch myself saying this, but today I was dying to run. Yeah, yeah, I know. If I get one more "we've drawn Claire over to the dark side" comment, its bearer will be banned from my sidebar for good*. The fact is, I hadn't run in a week and I was absolutely, positively itching to run.
*For those of you who missed the reference, until recently I HATED running and took every opportunity I could get to shout it from rooftops.

Sunday night a snow storm blew in dumping a couple of inches of snow before the real cold temperatures came through, freezing everything in place. Since Saturday the temperatures have barely crested around freezing before plunging back down into the windy, blustery low twenties. I won't focus on the effect that this is having on my sub-tropical sensibilities, and will focus on the effect that this has on the snow. Trampled-down chunks of snow on the sidewalks melt briefly and then turn to ice. What little run-off there is from melting snow turns to black ice. The midday temperatures that hover around freezing make the snow hunker down a little farther, then the colder temperatures make it freeze into its more compact formation. It's not really like ice, it's just really compact snow that makes a lot of noise and supports your weight when you walk on top of it. All this ice and snow everywhere makes for really crappy running conditions and an even more grouchy Claire. So today I came home hellbent on running in the dark and the ice and the snow, I didn't care how many times I fell on my ass. I was running, dammit!

The temperature was in the high 20's and gear included long underwear (or figure skating tights if we're going to get technical about it), long running pants, a wicking fabric tanktop, a cotton t-shirt (from a race I finished by the way), a cotton long-sleeved t-shirt (from a race I finished), a garden variety cotton sweatshirt, gloves, and my Sox beanie. The sidewalks were too icy to run on so I decided to head for the middle school track hoping that the dark color would have attracted more sun and the snow would have melted. It was a cute idea, but it was wishful thinking. I ran in the street with the cars to avoid the dark and icy sidewalks for the half mile to the track. When I got there was greeted with a white ring where the track used to be surrounded by more white where the soccer field used to be. Well... running in the snow will be better than running on ice, I reasoned and plodded across the snow-covered grass to the track.

And when I set foot on the track and started running, I wasn't running in the snow, running on the snow. It was so hard-packed from the thawing and re-freezing that my feet only left 1/4 inch marks in the surface and I was running on top of the snow.

There was a lone path of frozen footprints from someone who had walked a single lap several days ago, and then their tracks had frozen into ice, and for the first couple of laps those were the only footprints I saw, not my own. I liked these lone footprints because it meant that I was doing something that no one else braved doing. The footprints kept me company until I stepped too close to one, slipped into of it, and nearly twisted my ankle. All by myself I followed those footprints round and round the track 16 times.

After about 10 laps my toes had pulverized much of the hardened snow, which just made running harder. It went from feeling like I was running on gravel to feeling like I was running on sand. The crumbling surface was murder on my hamstrings and glutes which had to push that much harder to get me off the ground. And I was running painfully slowly, but I was running dammit! It was 27* out, the ground was covered in ice and snow, and I was STILL out there running. You have to appreciate exactly how much I hate winter weather, but here I was, with no threats, no one egging me on, no animals chasing me, running anyway. And right there in front of me I had proof that I was the first person to brave running on this track this week: one lonely path of footprints. I felt like a superhero! I felt like Jesus walking on water, only that I was probably putting in a lot more effort than The Man Himself.

On my last lap I permitted myself a corny moment that I'm going to share even if it makes you groan. I looked at the single path of frozen footprints, thought about that sappy poem about the footprints that ends with God saying "That's where I was carrying you". Ain't nobody carrying me tonight, I thought. I did this all by myself! Girl power!

I love it when it all comes together in such a way that you're so happy that you think it's a good idea to quote God and the Spice Girls all in one paragraph.