This morning's run was cold. Sunny, blue skies, but cold.
It was a strange fall; it seemed like the whole time it was fall, it was feeling like it had just been summer. Now, all of a sudden it's winter.
It's nice, though, because the weather is cooperating with a whole lot of other changes. It's just past Thanksgiving, meaning that it's Christmas season. I'm finally done my fall racing season. I'm practically done my semester. So it felt good to be out there this morning, running with the wanderers, wearing my tights and gloves and hat and jacket.
It felt good to be back on the trails, too. I'd been staying off of them in the weeks leading up to the Philly Half, since you never know when you'll turn an ankle and ruin your race, or else just totally biff, scrape your face up, and ruin your race pics. In those weeks, though, the trails changed; they're not the fall trails of changing leaves anymore, they're the winter trails, with the sun shining through the barren trees.
I don't know what this winter has in store, and I don't know what I want to accomplish. It was hard to run in last winter's snow; but I let that dictate my runs too much. It took a while this year – all of spring, part of summer – to make up for what I didn't run in the winter. I could make a point of avoiding that this year. But next year's a bit different anyway, what with the piglet on his way, and the probability that even if I'm running much next spring, I won't be sleeping much.
On Thanksgiving morning, we were at the Whole Paycheck, doing some last-minute shopping. I saw some popsicles in the frozen foods aisle. I remembered getting a popsicle on the way up to Great Barrington, how refreshing and cooling it was on that hot summer night. There will be more popsicles, but not for a while, not for a while.