Not a run, an adventure. Snow in Seattle means slush on the ground, and boy I got slurped big time. Late dinner not totally digested, so there was strange turbulence inside and out. Wet feet, but strangely exhilarating. If I made it through this, perhaps the routine has been established.
Incidentally, on the one patch of snow that wasn't turned to dreck, I noticed that my footfalls are really splayed outwards. Is that just how one runs on snow I wonder, or might it explain the ongoing fasciitis?
Mizuno. | 