broke out the base layers and gloves today. out the door with a frosty exhale and observed my neighbor scraping ice off his windshield. started off tight, but smoothed out before making the right hand turn onto the bark. i wait all year for the trail to feel like this. soft, but responsive. it's like finding the perfect "feel" for a shoe. i could run this shit barefoot. the bark is tamped down and crunches with every step. observed the metro walking his small dog. saw the steam rising from the yellow circle where small dog had been. lots of windshield scrapers. found myself stepping to the rhythm of the scraping. yes. it was one of those moments where you knew it wouldn't happen had you been running with someone else. footfall changed from scrunchy to crunchy as i hopped across the road and up the singletrack. mud frozen like the horrified faces of punched boxers. here in town, leaves still green. turned in on themselves, confused. found the core warming with the climb but the temperature dipped. reached up to adjust the knit cap on my head and gloved hands returned with frosty fingertips. sought the summit of the butte and found the cloudline and the thickest frost yet. out with the tongue to catch the first snowflakes of the season, here at 2085 feet. here and only here, for under 2K it's all wet precip. laughed out loud at my little coup and shot down backside of the butte careening and crashing the entire way. the wmd's barely hooking up and my quads screaming "what the fuck..." i finally found my way back to ridgeline as the buzz of it all started to wear off. this is my signal to turn for home. don't linger too long. keep it real and keep it fresh. it's not training yet, it's just running.
i love sitting in the kitchen with the kettle working up a scream and that feeling you have when you are thawing slightly. it's almost itchy feeling. wu wei