Even though was snowing (and snowing hard) and I was just about soaked from head to toe, I could almost imagine being on a beach somewhere. Except for the slight temperature change, it is similar in a lot of ways. Running in a couple of inches of freshly fallen wet snow is like running on sand; there's resistance. You can't get lazy or you'll end up tripping over your feet. Sure, there are places that are more packed down and easier to run on, just like at the beach- closer to the water, but where's the fun in that? It's soft and forces you to concentrate on your form. I also love the footprints. You get to make them in the sand and snow. I love to be the first one to make the footprints but I also love seeing others prints. It's fun to realize that I'm not the only one out in the weather. There are other crazies out there. It's part of that running community camaraderie. Even though we don't see each other, there are evidences that we were there.
I love the ocean. There is just something about it that calls to me. I haven't been there for a couple of years and it's beckoning to me. When we last left the ocean, I watched it in the rearview mirror until I couldn't see it anymore. Sappy as it was, there were tears. But this morning as I was finishing my run, I thought about the beach and visualized that water crashing on the shores. I could almost smell that salty, fishy air and hear those waves. And yet, with that wet lovely snow falling on my face in the morning dawn, I was grateful to be where I was at that moment. And I would have missed it all if it wasn't for that crazy little thing called running.