Let it Snow

On Tuesday, I got the rare opportunity to be a trailblazer. It flurried on Monday, leaving a thin white coating on the ground. The light but relentless snow shower continued through the night, and when I woke up the next morning, the dusting had been augmented to a thick blanket of three or four inches. I had already been looking forward to a trail run, now I was really stoked.

The main path at the state park had some footprints to follow, but as I turned down a windy trail through the woods, there were no tracks except those of a wandering deer, twisting between trees. In front of me, the ground was totally undisturbed - effervescent powder waiting to be kicked up for as far as I could see. At first, I stumbled through the snow, but soon enough I felt like I was skating across it. Without a clear path ahead of me, I took some wrong turns and left misleading tracks for my followers. I stayed focused on the trail, and when I reached a clearing, looked up and couldn't help but smile at the quaint, untouched beauty of the scene.

When I got to the hillier, more challenging trails on the other side of the park, I realized that I was hardly even looking down. It occured to me that this winter marks my five-year anniversary with running. I first discovered the freedom that came with the sport, and later the connection to nature trail running brought. I literally have run these trails so many times that I know where all the rocks are, and my footing was more than just natural, it was preprogrammed.

It didn't seem like an hour had passed when the trail dumped me out at the parking lot. When a run is more than just a workout, that's when putting in training is all worth it. And when I get to blaze my own trail through snowy woods, that's when I don't miss California.