running into the light
March is a weird month - it's not sure if it's quite time to be spring, but trying to run away from winter. Supposedly it comes in like a lamb and goes out with a lion. So far the first part is true. Or is it the other way around?
There's reasons I like March - the big one is that it gets lighter earlier and earlier each day and stays lighter into the evening. Daylight saving time starts.
March makes me feel lighter too - the winter fog starts to dissipate a little bit and I feel more awake, alert and oriented, as we say in the business.
While I was gainfully employed, my running typically took place at 5:45 AM during the weekdays. During the cold winter months the only things that get me out there are 1) Knowing that my friend Becky is waiting for me, 2) my clothes are waiting for me near the heat vent in the bathroom, 3) Jack the dog depends on me, and 4) I know I will have a better day if I make myself go out there. The hard part is simply getting dressed. There's a rule that I follow, usually without fail, and it is "if you are dressed you gotta go". So even if my friend(s) cancel, if I am dressed I gotta go and Jack and I head out - Jack the dog could care less if it is 3 degrees, windy and snowing. He doesn't complain about the rain. The only thing he would complain about if he could, other than his lack of thumbs, would be the salt on the road that gets into his paws. When this happens, he stops and hold up the irritated paw, waiting for me to rub it to clear the salt off, with my mitten. We tried those doggie booties but I feared he would trip and break something while wearing them. Besides other dogs made fun of him.
The reward for the 5:45 AM runs is that you gradually notice that it is getting lighter by a few seconds every morning - especially in March. You see the darkness getting chased away earlier and earlier each day by the coming sun light and you notice things that you haven't seen for a while - and luckily missed in the dark...like potholes and dog poop. But the mountains look so beautiful in the coming daylight. People are not so anonymous when you can see their faces and they are more likely to say "Good morning". More and more (fair weather) runners seem to show up at 6 AM when it is getting light - last minute training for the spring marathons or 1/2 marathons I suppose. Flower buds peak out in the front and back yard, knowing they will likely get snowed on again. My imaginary friend Jennifer is eagerly awaiting her first pedicure of the season and the planting of her organic garden.
Today when I ran to my friend Sid's house, it was almost light at 630. I remember just a few weeks ago, it was still pitch black out. The warm weather and the extended light has tricked the buds on trees into blossoming and the birds come out and sing earlier. It's nice and it gives a person that spring like sense of renewal and the desire to scoop all the visible dog poop out of the back yard.
Not that I have to run at 5:45 AM now that I am retired - I don't. But I do love the solitude of the mornings and watching the daylight come a little earlier each day. So if it isn't 5:45 it is most likely 8 or 9 AM. What a difference running in the light makes - even though the anonymity of dark is also nice. There's something about being out there with Jack at 5:45 on a dark day with snow and freezing temperatures that makes a person feel like they are doing something very unique. I loved it when I went to work on those cold days after my run and people said "You didn't run today did you?"
Parts of March make me feel heavy and sad despite the light and despite many good runs. On March 10th it will be two years since my mom died and I miss her always telling me stuff like "you are too old to run - you better quit" or "You aren't going by yourself are you? I miss her voice calling me and saying "How's my baby girl?" It's my dad's birthday on the 17th. He would have been 86. My friend Vic who shares this birthday would have been about 103.
There's happier birthdays though. My friend Velda will be 97 on the 16th. and she still lives at home. Sid, my Sunday running buddy will be 86 on the 24th. He's still out there running and trying to improve himself.
So I will run in to the light of March and into spring and summer. A person can't really ask for more than that and I am grateful that I can be out there and notice.
There's reasons I like March - the big one is that it gets lighter earlier and earlier each day and stays lighter into the evening. Daylight saving time starts.
March makes me feel lighter too - the winter fog starts to dissipate a little bit and I feel more awake, alert and oriented, as we say in the business.
While I was gainfully employed, my running typically took place at 5:45 AM during the weekdays. During the cold winter months the only things that get me out there are 1) Knowing that my friend Becky is waiting for me, 2) my clothes are waiting for me near the heat vent in the bathroom, 3) Jack the dog depends on me, and 4) I know I will have a better day if I make myself go out there. The hard part is simply getting dressed. There's a rule that I follow, usually without fail, and it is "if you are dressed you gotta go". So even if my friend(s) cancel, if I am dressed I gotta go and Jack and I head out - Jack the dog could care less if it is 3 degrees, windy and snowing. He doesn't complain about the rain. The only thing he would complain about if he could, other than his lack of thumbs, would be the salt on the road that gets into his paws. When this happens, he stops and hold up the irritated paw, waiting for me to rub it to clear the salt off, with my mitten. We tried those doggie booties but I feared he would trip and break something while wearing them. Besides other dogs made fun of him.
The reward for the 5:45 AM runs is that you gradually notice that it is getting lighter by a few seconds every morning - especially in March. You see the darkness getting chased away earlier and earlier each day by the coming sun light and you notice things that you haven't seen for a while - and luckily missed in the dark...like potholes and dog poop. But the mountains look so beautiful in the coming daylight. People are not so anonymous when you can see their faces and they are more likely to say "Good morning". More and more (fair weather) runners seem to show up at 6 AM when it is getting light - last minute training for the spring marathons or 1/2 marathons I suppose. Flower buds peak out in the front and back yard, knowing they will likely get snowed on again. My imaginary friend Jennifer is eagerly awaiting her first pedicure of the season and the planting of her organic garden.
Today when I ran to my friend Sid's house, it was almost light at 630. I remember just a few weeks ago, it was still pitch black out. The warm weather and the extended light has tricked the buds on trees into blossoming and the birds come out and sing earlier. It's nice and it gives a person that spring like sense of renewal and the desire to scoop all the visible dog poop out of the back yard.
Not that I have to run at 5:45 AM now that I am retired - I don't. But I do love the solitude of the mornings and watching the daylight come a little earlier each day. So if it isn't 5:45 it is most likely 8 or 9 AM. What a difference running in the light makes - even though the anonymity of dark is also nice. There's something about being out there with Jack at 5:45 on a dark day with snow and freezing temperatures that makes a person feel like they are doing something very unique. I loved it when I went to work on those cold days after my run and people said "You didn't run today did you?"
Parts of March make me feel heavy and sad despite the light and despite many good runs. On March 10th it will be two years since my mom died and I miss her always telling me stuff like "you are too old to run - you better quit" or "You aren't going by yourself are you? I miss her voice calling me and saying "How's my baby girl?" It's my dad's birthday on the 17th. He would have been 86. My friend Vic who shares this birthday would have been about 103.
There's happier birthdays though. My friend Velda will be 97 on the 16th. and she still lives at home. Sid, my Sunday running buddy will be 86 on the 24th. He's still out there running and trying to improve himself.
So I will run in to the light of March and into spring and summer. A person can't really ask for more than that and I am grateful that I can be out there and notice.
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