It snowed here again today. Just an inch or so. But in this part of the country that’s enough to start the looting of bread and milk at the grocery store in a manner fitting Sherman’s army. Fortunately, we’re not big milk drinkers in our house and I bought three loaves of wheat berry bread last Friday for Hubby’s poker night sandwiches with the boys, so the Hula-gen’s should survive this little winter blast just fine. AND get plenty of fiber.
My distaste for winter weather is well documented on these pages, so I shall refrain from typing anything that makes my brothers and sisters in the north roll their eyes. Nothin’ makes a Yankee more annoyed than someone south of Indiana whining about a few centimeters of snow. Sorry, we have a weak constitution when it comes to freezing weather and snow. Now a good old fashioned tornado? That’s something we can sink our three teeth into.
I have been very consistent in my running in the last few weeks, so I really wanted to run today. All morning I watched the snow fall and dreaded the idea of running in the cold, wet weather. In between all of the phone calls and memos my head was all, “Run, skip it. Run, skip it.” I finally decided I should just suck it up and give it a whirl. I figured if it was really horrible I’d circle a few blocks and head back to work. By the time I reached the locker room that voice in my head was, “Skip it, skip it, SKIP IT!” And finally, a big, “Are you CRAZY?” That voice in my head is a noisy wench. And lazy, too. I thought the best way to shut her up would be to layer up and then just hit the door in a run before I had time to weenie out of running. I threw on two layers of running pants, two shirts, my gloves and then tucked my hair into a hat and ear warmers to keep my head dry. I was wishing I had my trail shoes ‘cause as Lt. Dan says, you need to keep your feet dry and don’t get killed, which oddly enough is good advice for running on the streets of this town amid soggy weather and a host of stupid drivers.
I burst out the door and hit the street, and tried to remind myself that folks in Minnesota run in this kind of weather every day. Except I’m not from Minnesota. It was cold. And windy. And wet. I concentrated on staying focused on my pace and not the weather. I also kept looking down to keep from splashing into a puddle because of the whole wet feet thing. The tap, tap of my feet sounded in my head as I found a comfortable pace and put block after block behind me. I turned a corner and the wind hit me in the face at full force. I looked at my shirt and saw that it was speckled with snow. I kept moving and told myself to soak it in. Savor the moment, Hula. Enjoy the miracle that is snow. Isn’t it beautiful? But my head was whining, “But it’s COLD.” And then something clicked. I’m not sure why or how, but the voice in my head shut up, and I noticed how quiet my surroundings were. The traffic was less than usual, and the streets had a nice silence to them. The snow had covered enough ground and scattered little sparkles along fence tops and lawn decorations to make it really pretty. Instead of looking at the snow, I really began to SEE it. And enjoy it as it drifted from the sky and onto my shoulders. I rounded Fountain Avenue, and the chimes on the Methodist Church began ringing a hymn to mark the stroke of noon. And it was one of those moments when I felt very in touch with nature and very spiritual. And I didn’t notice the cold anymore. In fact, I felt inspired to run well. I did the four miles I had time for within my lunch hour and finished quicker than usual. It was a good run. A beautiful run. I didn’t mind all of the stares I got from drivers thinking I was crazy. And I really didn’t mind the snow. I truly enjoyed it.
Just don’t tell anyone. A Hula Girl has a reputation to uphold.
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