Winter Run

Mileage: 3 miles
October Mileage: More than 10K, less than a marathon
Temperature: 23 degrees

I went for my first sub-freezing run of the year. After a week off my legs and on the couch with some kind of stomach virus and an early-winter plunge in temperatures, I decided to take it slow, to let my body get readjusted to the new conditions.

I elongated my stride and stretched my limbs in comical shapes. I listened to the squeak of my shoes, not used to the way sounds echo off the cold. My face felt as stiff as the ice along the edge of the river, thick with ducks scowling as if they weren't used to cold feet either. The seat warmers and plug ins for our cars no substitute for the heating properties of down.

Other ducks skimmed along the gun-metal gray water in the sluggish current, the vital spark thrown off by their tiny bodies dwarfed by the immensity of winter settling over the land. The blood in my veins, too, felt thick with slush. Through the wispish fog of my breath, I saw the moon's silhouette etched into the glass dome of the sky.

It felt good to go slow, to keep running even though the season has changed, the hectic pace of the productive months gone along with the long days. I spent the summer training for this fall's Equinox Marathon. I knew all along I probably wouldn't be at the starting line, planning ahead for a different kind of success. Maybe my accomplishment will come next year, after the odometer of my life rolls forward into another decade, after a winter of keeping my lungs and legs in shape so I'll be ready for what comes next.

As I turned the corner onto my street, I felt the air brush of wings as a flock of birds came in for a landing overhead. When I turned to see where they would settle, I saw pigeons in pear-shaped trees. Then I plodded steadily back home to my own nest.