I escaped the tempting voice of my couch and book, for a quick run around town Sunday.
Not so cold, with a belly filled with lobster eggs benedict, and a headlamp just in case, I didn’t have a location goal, or a distance goal. Just get out, get some miles in, escape my head, breathe in the outside air.
I spent a lot of time avoiding icy pavement, and oncoming headlights. Road shoes, no screws, mashed potato snow, and pedestrians out of habit of listening for, or moving aside for runners. One guy (after my very polite “Excuse me, on your right”) laughingly exclaimed “Isn’t that something” .
The hill wasn’t as bad I remembered it from the last time I was on that route. The time didn’t fly by, but when I got back to the Christmas tree lights in the window, I had a bit left in the lungs and legs.
Returned to the warmth, the couch, my book, and I needed to escape again. This time into a thorough scrubbing of my stove.