And also: How come I am running in a skirt when it is 37 degrees?
In my defense, something unusual happened.
The sun came out.
Normally we are drenched in sun, even in winter. This winter, though, has had its harsh moments. Snow, rain, and just to make things more fun, ice. It's not been the best of times. The clouds have cloaked us in mist and fog and the mountains have shut out whatever it is they don't want us to know. Rumors of a huge avalanche, taking out an entire mountainside, far back along the Hurwal divide, are left to the clouds. We will find answers in the spring, perhaps.
I decided to drive to the lonely ranch roads to run. This is a frivolous thing to do, given that I can run from the house, but sometimes a runner just wants flat. She doesn't want to start off first thing on a Hill of Death. The ranch roads are serene and wind-swept and you never know how far you are going or how fast (unless you take a Garmin, but that seems out of place and wrong). Instead the ranch roads are for contemplation, for silence. You run past cows and abandoned buildings and working ranches and tractors and you feel the history of this place. It's a good place to go, sometimes.
In the end, running in a skirt was wildly optimistic. In the end the clouds came back in and shrouded the mountains again. Any secret avalanche is hidden away. We may never have the answers to all of our mysteries. There's always more to discover.
|This wasn't my running view--but it would have been if it were sunny!|