Joyful Snow

I was going to title this, "The Joy of Running in the Snow" but felt it hinted at waxing romantic about anything but running.  And I want to talk about running in the snow, thus a simpler title.  

Earlier this week I was contemplating a dilema I knew I would soon face.  When it finally does snow enough to stick on the ground what activity shall I persue first?  Running or cross country skiing?  I would bet for many of you the choice would be easy.  For me, not so much as I enjoy doing both.  Of course the skiing cannot be done without the snow, but there is something about running IN the snow that makes it an experience for me that I always appreciate more than any other kind of run.

Now, mind you, I am not all about going out there in blizzard-like conditions, nor am I fan of sub-zero temps or wind chill factors that make you shiver just thinking about it.  These kinds of snow days are the ones that bring to mind the ideal Christmas or sledding days of our youth.  The wind is calm, the day is slightly overcast, yet bright.  The snow floats down from the sky as if dancing, in big, soft flakes and wrapping a kind of muffler around us and silencing the noise of life going on in the background.

It's early in the morning and snow plows haven't hit the secondary streets yet. Many houses still have snow covered drives and sidewalks.  Each step I take is greeted with a soft cushioning underfoot - which, in my current age and condition, I am grateful for - masking the sound of shoe against pavement thus adding to the surreal quality of the morning.  Traffic is sparse both on foot and in vehicles and I am once again reminded why these kinds of days are special.

I enjoy the cold air on my cheeks, the snap of crisp air in my lungs, and the and the slower rise of my body temp.  Normally I am hot within the first 20 feet; on snow days I manage to remain cool until about a third into my run.  While the run seems slower, my time is actually faster, which always fascinates me.  There is something time-stopping about they way the snow floats down, sounds are muffled and the quiet adds to the mellow feeling.  My mind wanders at a slower pace but my watch shows my body much quicker. 

I am calmer during these runs and the usual scrambling trail of thoughts are halted and ordered into place, allowing me to flip through them one by one instead of many at a time or forgeting about what I've managed to track because I am distracted by sounds or objects that require greater attention.  There is a peacefulness that takes place within and I find myself content and happy. These kinds of runs end with a feeling of accomplishment for myself and gratitude for the opportunity.  Their occurance is rare and I am delighted when they arrive.

As for the skiing, it's a different kind of fun.  Again, the winters around here aren't always made for skiing so those chances should be taken when available too.  It could be an adventurous kind of outing for me if I could go into woods and trails easily.  I would probably be quite perplexed as to which activity to persue when snow does arrive.  But I live in the flatlands, so my "adventure" is only what the local golf course can provide.  The occasional animal track gives just a hint of the places I'd rather be skiing.  On the other hand, it's just chance that brings the snow needed to ski so I try not to gripe about it.

  I can only recall one time where the joy I felt skiing was comparable to the running feeling and that was on a course set in the forest on the back side of slopes in Boyne Highlands. There was that same soft, floating snow, the muffled silence that comes with it, and the gentle reflection lighting the path carved between the trees.  Clearly an experience I can look back on and smile.

There is contentment for me in that kind of snow; a joy, if you will, unlike anything else.

Oh dear, I have waxed poetic....anybody feel like sighing? ;)