27 miles this week. It's so weird that it took me a week to run a marathon. Wow. Today I got outside and within .5 miles was in a state of utter euphoria. I spent 45 minutes last night wrapped in a blanket sitting on the rocking chair on the front porch looking at the snow fall from the night sky. It was so silent and perfect, the pregnant stillness punctuated by the laughing of two teenagers playing in the snow up the street. Today it was slushy. It was getting into the mesh toe of my shoe. But by and by I forgot all about my wet feet and started noticing the people outside shoveling the sidewalks. Dad's and young sons shoveling the church walkways. A dad on his quad equipped with a snow shovel going up and down the street. On days like today you have an instant comeraderie with other people who venture outside in the grey light of morning after it's snowed. I saw the snowboarders and skiiers headed up the canyon on their way to Sundance. I smiled thinking about how I will be there tomorrow with my sister looking down over the valley from Bearclaw. I trudged up the slushy Foothill , up to East Lawn Cemetary followed by Memo. He's this amazing local soccer player from Mexico. He runs all over town every Saturday. I used to see him on the trail by the lake every Saturday and now I see him here. That means he runs like 20 miles every Saturday, and has for like 10 years. He's this squat, thick indian looking guy you would never in a million years guess ran 20 miles every saturday. He's probably a janitor somewhere and no one around him has any idea how tough he is. Anyway, getting outside, as anyone can see fills me with endorphins and hope for the future and so I was wordy and poetic about the quality of the snow and the beauty of the world. I didn't even care that cars and trucks splashed me mercilessly when they drove by. I was so happy to be outside.
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