Year: 2018

feb 22/5.85 MILES

23 degrees
75% snow-covered
the ford loop

This run felt really great. I didn’t go too fast, but went faster than I thought for how relaxed I felt. I needed this run after having another stressful morning trying to get the girl to go to school. Listened to my running playlist and tried to block out the world. It worked! Almost 60 minutes of somewhere else.

Decided to try out the ford loop before the snow hits again and the path becomes impassable. Even though I enjoyed my run, deciding to do this loop was a big mistake. Tons of super slick ice and rough, clumpy snow made it very treacherous. I slipped several times and landed wrong on my foot at least twice.  Still, I did it. Even the steep short hill by Summit! Running across the Lake Street bridge, back to St. Paul was rough–ice and chunky snow.

It’s supposed to start snowing in a few hours. Maybe up to 5 inches. Then another round on Saturday. Possibly double digit totals. Will it actually come? Do I want it to?

I’ve been writing poem fragments every morning when I wake up about winter. Here’s one that I wrote shortly after we didn’t get the snow that was predicted:

another storm
narrowly avoided
early forecasts had predicted
5-8 inches of snow
sub zero temps
lots of wind
well—
it’s 20 degrees colder than yesterday and
I can hear the wind blow but
where’s that snow?
a no show as usual
I should be relieved and
I am but still
I wouldn’t mind watching
some big fluffy flakes floating
down from the sky
delivering little crystal bursts of joy
or at least distraction
as I sit on the couch
waiting for a girl to get ready
to go to school

feb 21/4.25 MILES

8 degrees/feels like -3
99% snow-covered
mississippi river road path, north/south

Bright blue sky. Blinding sun. Cold air. Slippery path. Fogged-up glasses. Crunchy path. I was struck by how the 2 crunching sounds of my feet highlighted the differences between walking and running. When I was walking, the slower, steadier crunch lasted longer, as my foot went from the initial heel strike to the final toe-off. How many bones came into contact with the crunchy snow? When I was running, that second crunch was quicker, with less grinding. I’d like to capture some sound of me running on crunching snow, but that seems hard.

Reading The Snow Poems by AR Amons which is, disappointingly, not all about snow. But, there are some snow poems, like this one:

here a month of snow,
mere January than
February, intervenes
during which
I wrote
nothing. it is
the winter-deep, the
annual sink:
leave it unwritten,
as snow unwrites
the landscape

feb 20/4.05 MILES

20 degrees
100% snow-covered
mississippi river road path, north/south

We got about an inch of wet snow yesterday/last night so the path was covered…and crunchy. Mostly fine to run on, although a few spots were softer, causing my foot to sink down. A beautiful morning. Grayish-white. Calm. Quiet. Not much wind, not much noise. Tried to catch up to the runner ahead of me after I turned around but couldn’t. Was she going fast, or was I going slow–or were we going the same pace so I couldn’t gain any distance on her? Saw the Daily Walker twice! Both times, from behind, so I didn’t get to say “good morning” to him.

Recorded the sound of my crunching feet on the sidewalk, after I finished my run:

2 distinct sounds. One, a steady grinding, like gears with small teeth turning rhythmically, constantly, The Other, one quick thrust, like a small shovel being thrust into sand or small pebbles. I think that the sounds trade off between my moving feet. But how? I need to go out and walk in the snow some more to figure it out!

Discovered a few great lines in Snow in America:

‘In prose,’ the Mexican poet Octavio Paz writes, ‘the word tends to be identified with one of its possible meanings at the expense of others…the poet, on the other hand, never assaults the ambiguity of the word.’ Poetry is to snow what prose is to rain, says Howard Nemerov, because ‘it flew instead of fell.’

feb 18/2.25 MILES

43 degrees
puddles!
mississippi river road path, south/north

Decided to fit in a quick run since it is so warm today and will be so cold/icy/snowy tomorrow. It was windy and wet but not too bad. I managed to avoid most of the big puddles.

February

Following
Every
Bright, sunny, above freezing day the cold and gloom
Returns having only briefly hidden
Under the promise of spring’s early
Arrival. Always
Retracted revoked replaced with more cold—-O how I
Yearn for warmer air!

feb 17/6.2 MILES

30 degrees
5% snow-covered
mississippi river road path, south/minnehaha falls/minnehaha creek/lake nokomis

Very slippery. Almost fell a few times on the way to the river. Ran to the falls, on the creek path, then over to Lake Nokomis. I haven’t run this route since late July, right before my injury. It’s funny how it feels longer than running north on the path. The creek was all open water. The lake was covered with snow but on the bridge I could see slushy, almost open water. As I ran by the little beach, I imagined the summer and swimming across the lake.

I’ve been thinking about snow and ice lately. Hardly any snow on the path today, but lots of ice. Patches of black ice–clear, almost hidden, blending into the path. Patches of thick opaque ice, with an ugly yellowish greenish tint. Strips of jagged ice, the result of snow melting, puddling on the path then refreezing at night. Slick spots under the dusting of snow that happened a few hours before I ran that was mostly melted in the almost above freezing air.

feb 16/2 MILES

ywca track
65 degrees

Ran a quick 2 miles at the track. People I saw at the y:

A woman, about my build, my hair color, my age, wearing an orange tank top similar to one that I wear. Scott almost called out to her, thinking she was me.

A short runner in a bright blue shirt, running much faster than me but only running a lap. Is it wrong that I felt some satisfaction when I passed them, still running, while they were walking?

A couple I’ve seen for years, both at the y and on the Mississippi River Road near the lock and dam by the falls, running and jump roping and pulling sleds or lifting heavy weights. Today one of them was pushing a sled by the wall, while the other was doing some leg exercises, then they both walked around the track carrying huge weights above their heads. One time, last summer, I saw them jump roping! up a steep hill.

An impatient woman in the locker room who became even more impatient waiting for one of two pool lanes–the others were filled with older women in an aquablast class–to open up.

The track wasn’t too crowded. The run wasn’t that memorable. Oh–I thought I packed a pair of socks, but actually only packed one, so I ran without socks. No blisters…yet.

feb 14/2.2 MILES

25 degrees
5% snow-covered
mississippi river road path, south/north

After biking in the front room on the stand for 25 minutes, I decided to go out an do a quick run. What a beautiful morning! It’s amazing how 25 degrees can feel warm and spring-like. Ran south, towards the falls and looked across the gorge to St. Paul. Because they don’t plow the walking path in the winter, I usually only run on the biking path, but I noticed that the walking path had a few bare patches so on my way back, I took the snow-covered trail. A few treacherous ice patches, but not too bad. What’s happening to me? I’m choosing to run on snow instead of bare pavement?!

Walking back home, after finishing my run, I stopped to record the noisy birds. I had noticed them earlier, when I was running, chirping and cooing and trilling. Spring won’t be here for another month or two (hopefully not three!), but it’s coming. As much as I love winter running, I’m fine with that.

Sounds Like Spring

In addition to the bird sounds, this audio clip features some delightful (or irritating, depending on your perspective) crunching noises. As I was walking and listening to the sounds, I started thinking about the many different ways a path can crunch: shattering snow crystals, friction from dry snow grains rubbing against each other and/or my foot, salt or sand scratching on the pavement, the treads of my shoes loaded with little pebbles scuffing against the ground.

A few other things to note from this recording:

  • For most of the audio, I’m walking on a sidewalk that has a lot of bare pavement, mixed with crusty snow and ice. Occasionally, I’m walking on just snow. I can tell that it’s warmer and that the snow will be melting soon because the sound is heavier and more muffled.
  • There are lots of birds, but underneath them is a constant hum of the city–I think it’s the freeway or a highway a few miles away.
  • As I continued to walk home, still recording this audio, I noticed my shadow in the snow, joining me. I almost stopped to take a picture.

Sure snow crunches but
it also sizzles and
cracks and
scratches and
scuffs and
squeaks on the sidewalk.
It amplifies and muffles
absorbs and reflects
slumbers in silence and
remains awake alert active.

Wrote a pantoum about the path for my poetry class (ah! so many pleasing p’s!)

The Soundtrack for my Run (first draft)

In the winter, above the Mississippi River Gorge
I take up an ongoing conversation
I’m having with the running path.
Mostly I listen.

I absorb with ears and feet
its voices and textures
hearing crystals cracking or feeling soft snow
settling unevenly around my ankles.

These sounds and surfaces
energize and exhaust
speaking steadily into my ear
becoming a soundtrack for my run.

The cracking crystals make me buzz, the soft snow saps my strength.
Cracking, crunching, snapping, sinking, slipping
are the soundtrack for my run
in the winter, above the Mississippi River Gorge.

feb 13/4 MILES

13 degrees/feels like 5
10% snow-covered
mississippi river road path, south/minneahaha falls/north

Slightly warmer. Gray. Damp. Occasional gusts of wind. Even though I have a cold, I’m glad I ran outside this morning. Ran around the falls. Still frozen. Thick snow on the creek bank. Just as I was wondering if minnehaha creek was frozen over, I noticed some slushy spots on the surface. Tomorrow it’s supposed to get a lot warmer–over 40 degrees. How much of a melty mess will it be?

feb 12/5.3 MILES

3 degrees/feels like -10
5% snow-covered
franklin loop

Cold. Calm. Hardly any wind. The path was mostly clear. My fingers were cold for the first mile, but then felt warm. Heard lots of birds and imagined spring coming soon. Saw only 1 or 2 runners the entire time. In the last mile, saw the daily walker. The gorge was beautiful. The river, which a few days earlier had been open, was now frozen. I wonder how thick the ice is? Not thick enough! Speaking of thin ice, randomly encountered a National Geographic article about Nordic skating–also known as wild ice or Black ice skating. Scary.

A few days ago, I recorded my walk. If you listen closely and can tune out my crunching footsteps,\ there are some birds singing. I heard these birds today during my run.

feb 10/RACE

5 degrees/feels like -something
lake nokomis
5K: 25:52

Cold but sunny and not much wind. I learned today that the Valentine’s Day 5K is the oldest winter race in Minneapolis. This is my third year running it. Random things I remember:

  • the dude who sang the national anthem before the race started was good.
  • my big toes were very cold waiting before the start. I kept singing “my big toes are froze.”
  • loved seeing bright, electric blue shoes. One person had an electric blue jacket to match. Someone else had hot pink running tights. Not too many costumes. I remember a zebra. No one in shorts or a tank top or short sleeves.
  • I can’t get Miley Cyrus’s “Party in the U.S.A.” out of my head because they played it after we were walking back to the car.
  • Scott and I split up about 1/4 of mile from the start. I went ahead because it was too crowded to run together.
  • The road was completely clear–no ice or snow at all–but at least two people were wearing trax that made an annoying clacking noise with every step.
  • Managed to say “thanks” to several of the volunteers.
  • Did I look out at the lake even once while I was running next to it? I don’t think so.
  • Don’t know my splits because I didn’t have my watch on but I’m pretty sure each mile was faster.
  • Noticed several people wearing bright yellow shirts.

A post shared by Scott Anderson 📎 (@room34) on

feb 9/REST

Walked to the studio in the cold sun and felt joy. Much of the sidewalk was covered unevenly with hard packed snow. No wind. I knew it was cold but I didn’t feel cold, just happy and grateful to be outside, breathing in the pure air. When I got to the studio checked the feels like temperature: -11. What has happened to me that I enjoyed weather this cold? I guess I am from/of the North. Been thinking a lot about snow, snow-covered paths, the noises snow makes and why snow sometimes looks blue. I Read Su Smallen’s Kinds of Snow and did some research on snow squeaks. I’m collecting lots of snow words that I hope to use in a poem: snow grains, snow pack, dendrites, hoarfrost, watermelon snow, compacted, trodden, the blue hour, crystals, needles, flakes, graupels, sintering, collapsing, compressing.

feb 8/4 MILES

6 degrees/feels like -6
50% snow-covered
mississippi river road path, south/minneahaha falls/river road path, north

Another good run. I didn’t mind the cold. Didn’t overdress. Listened for the birds and heard a few. Also heard a lot of snow crunching under my feet. For several stretches I could hear the dull thwack of my feet striking bare pavement. Ran to the right today to see if Minnehaha Falls is frozen over. It is. The trail along the gorge going south is beautiful. You can really see to St. Paul on the other side. It was mostly still and calm outside. Peaceful. Didn’t see any walkers or bikers and only one other runner. I was the only one at the falls. It was quiet, with no water rushing down or even trickling.

Speaking of the Falls, I’m studying a lovely poem about falling water from Alice Oswald: A Short Story of Falling. I’d like to write an homage poem about crunching snow or frozen water.

feb 7/4.2 MILES

6 degrees/feels like -3
100% snow-covered
mississippi river road path, north/south

What a run! It hardly felt cold, except for my hands which took about a mile to warm up. Sunny. Bright blue sky. Clear air. The snow on the path packed tight.

I was the only runner out there. Did I see any walkers? I can’t remember. Glad I didn’t wear any headphones because I got to hear the snow crunching. Two sounds. One that was steady, almost like grinding or styrofoam being crushed. The other that was softer and shorter. I like these sounds, maybe partly because they are a little annoying.

My shadow ran with me today. She was my friend, leading me along. About a mile into the run one of the tassels on my hat, which had been my mom’s cross country skiing hat before she died, hit my shoulder like it was tapping me, trying to get my attention. My mom saying hello? I imagined her there with me.

I don’t remember hearing any birds. I did glance down at the gorge a few times and saw the river. Was it flowing? I can’t remember. Noticed the silhouette of an oak’s gnarled branches against the deep blue sky. There wasn’t a lot of wind, only occasional gusts that picked up the fresh snow that fell sometime last night and swirled it around.

By the end of the run I was very warm. With a mile left, I was dripping sweat. After the run was over my face burned from the sweat that had frozen on my face.

Yesterday, when it felt too bright and too cold and I was stuck in a car, trying to drive, I wondered, like most everyone else I talk to, why winter is so long and when it will leave. But today, outside on the path, breathing in the cold, absorbing the blue sky, feeling the crunching snow, I remembered that I love winter and am fine if it stays for a few more months.

feb 6/3.1 MILES

65 degrees
ywca track

Ran inside at the track. More crowded than I expected for 2pm on a Tuesday. I guess you could call what I did a tempo run. A little faster but not too fast. I’m writing this the day after the run, so I don’t remember much. Not too many runners, many more walkers. Saw a walker who seemed to be limping wearing thick black socks. He made it around the track for a few laps before sitting down on a chair. Also passed a woman using a walker. Didn’t recognize anyone else that I’ve seen before. No one pulling a sled or crawling. Did see someone using the long ropes–the ones that you grab in your hands and shake, making them look almost like snakes slithering or a wave rushing away from you. What are those called? Looked them up–battle ropes.

feb 4/1.5 MILES

65 degrees
ywca track

Another Sunday run at the track. The guy who runs at a lean was there, running fast and running with his head tilted slightly to the right. Saw an older women–in her 70s? 80s?–running around the track, looking strong even as she was hunched forward. Also saw an older guy–I’d guess he was in the his 70s too–running. Earlier in the day, driving on the river road, saw the Daily Walker and thought about running outside instead of the track, but it was cold and I wanted to go to the hot tub with Scott, so I didn’t.

feb 3/5.25 MILES

18 degrees/feels like 5
100% snow-covered
mississippi river road north/hennepin avenue bridge

Ran on the river road to downtown in the snow. My first time this winter running while it was snowing. Beautiful. It wasn’t too cold. The snow wasn’t too deep or annoying–except for when it felt like little knives hitting my face. There weren’t too many other people out on the path. I think I saw 3 or 4 runners. I was alone in the flats below the U. The steep hill almost to downtown was a bit tough so I walked it for a few minutes. Right at the base of the Hennepin Avenue bridge there was a zipline set up so people in town for the Super Bowl could zip across the river.

I loved this run today.

Heard the snow crunching again and noticed how the steady crunch sound traded off between my feet. The path today was a little more slippery and not packed down because it was steadily snowing. A few days ago I wrote a haiku about how the wet snow felt like running in the sand but I think that this dry, powdery, freshly-fallen snow felt more like running in the sand–especially the soft sand by the river.

Birds

Almost forgot to mention the birds. Running in the quiet snow, I kept hearing birds. Not geese or crows but something cooing or chirping. So odd to hear these calls which make me think of spring while running in the pure white solitude.

Here’s a poem about birds that I recently found and really like:

Bird Song —Rebecca Taksel

After all these years
I still don’t know the name
of the bird who has followed me
with his early-morning song
to all the places I’ve lived.

I’ve never asked
“Which bird is that, singing now?”
I remember hearing him first
on a spring morning in childhood
somewhere in the woods
behind our little house, his song clear
above the thousand little sounds
of grass and water and trees around us.

I’ve thought about the deaths I fear,
but only now do I know the death I want:
to let that song be the last thing I hear,
and not to mind at all that I never learned
the singer’s name.

Oh—and another thing about birds: After my run, and after meeting Scott at the coffee place, we walked by a tree, right in front of a spa/salon where they had thoughtfully placed half a dozen bird feeders. Little birds like to gather here. I know because I’ve walked by this tree before. As you approach the birds they flutter and fly, only briefly, away from the tree. It’s a beautiful thing to see.

And a few more lines about birds from a poem:

Snow melts into the earth and a gentle breeze
Loosens the damp gum wrappers, the stale leaves
Left over from autumn, and the dead brown grass.
The sky shakes itself out. And the invisible birds
Winter put away somewhere return…
(from The Late Wisconsin Spring/ John Koethe)

feb 2/4.05 MILES

-1 degree/feels like -10
15% snow-covered
mississippi river road path, north/south

Cold. Sub-zero. Arctic. Freezing. Frigorific. Brisk. Polar. Frozen. Chilly. I didn’t care. Had a great run outside. Almost too warm in my layers: a buff covering my head, ears, neck, mouth; a hood; a hat with ear flaps; a green running shirt; a black running pull-over; a pink jacket; a gray jacket; fleece running tights; fleece sweatpants; two pairs of socks and two pairs of gloves + sunglasses. Just a little too much. It’s hard to gauge because I start out so cold. Saw a few fat tires, one person walking their dog, a handful of other walkers and the Daily Walker. My favorite person to see. Don’t think I saw anyone else running. Heard some loud geese honking somewhere under the Lake Street Bridge. What are they still doing here? Heard some mysterious clanging or buzzing coming from the railroad bridge as I ran under it. Heard a helicopter hovering–was it related to pre Super Bowl stuff happening downtown?

I ended my run at 4 miles, right by the welcoming oaks. Walking, I began to notice how my left and right foot each provided a slightly different crunching sound. I liked it so much, I had to record the sound:

Then I created an acrostic poem describing the sound and my experience of hearing it this morning:

Crunching Snow

A constant crunch
Underfoot
Two versions—one fast
One slow, one
Never stopping, steadily crushing ice crystals
One
Making quick forceful snaps
One soft, one loud both
Unrelenting in their
Soundtrack,
Sinking deep into my
Ears these
Noises do
Something that
Opens me up makes my brain
Rattle vibrate buzz makes me
Yield to the sensation
Makes me
Earnest with my attention trying to conjure up the
Right words to capture the
Is of this musical moment cars
Drive by as
I
Attempt to classify the
Noise—somewhat like static but not white noise—is it
yellow noise? a happy yellow buzz
Radiating a constant crackling
Energy that
Sizzles on the
Path?
Outside this moment, it might be just
Noise, but right now the
Sound of crunching snow is
Everything.

jan 31/3.75 MILES

26 degrees
99% snow-covered
mississippi river road path, north/south

Woke up in this morning, opened the door and was completely shocked to see a fresh dusting of snow. About an inch. I shouldn’t be surprised, I guess, but I was. This dusting is the annoying kind, hiding the icy patches that have lingered on the sidewalk after the big warm-up/melt last week. Yuck. It was a bit treacherous walking to the river, but once I started running on the path it was fine. I had a good run. Listened to my playlist and enjoyed the warmth of the sun. I continue to run negative splits without trying.

For my poetry class this week, I had to write a haiku/haikus. I decided to create some about the condition on the running path:

An ice-covered path
is slick but not slippery
when you run, not walk.

Dry snow on a path
makes a satisfying snap
under running feet.

The wet snow muffles
my striking feet as I run
above the river.

An inch of powder
conceals ice chunks and slick spots.
I run cautiously.

Ice doesn’t sparkle.
It taunts and teases and hides
under the new snow.

Warmer air. Melting
snow. Paths with puddles soak socks
before refreezing.

Sunny. A clear path
and a clear mind allow me
to have a great run.

Running through wet snow
is like running on warm sand
except much colder.

jan 30/1.8 MILES

65 degrees
ywca track
+ 1250 yard swim

Swam in the pool before running. Felt pretty good. I like swimming outside in the lake much better. The air is nicer and the swim is more interesting. Plus, less flip turns and less opportunity to stop. Once you start swimming across the lake, you have to keep going. Even so, this swim was fine. Ran almost 2 miles on the track after the swim. That felt good too. I’m definitely running faster than last year, but I wasn’t paying attention to my pace. Found myself trying to keep an even distance behind a runner ahead of me who was going at a fast (for me) pace. His right arm moved back and forth awkwardly with each step and his whole head leaned slightly to the right. Does he know this happens? I wonder how I look to others as I run? Scott told me I look a bit stiff–almost like a machine. Do either of my legs swing out awkwardly? Are my feet in line? My head straight? Someday, I’ll have to get some video of myself running.

jan 29/4 MILES

10 degrees/feels like 2
mississippi river road path, north/south

Cold again. Didn’t bother me. Actually, it didn’t seem too cold. Maybe it was the number of layers I was wearing. Or maybe it was the fact that I’m used to running in the cold. Ran without headphones and heard some birds chirping. The path was almost completely clear and dry and hard. Did it feel harder because it was colder? Couldn’t hear my own feet on the path but did notice a lot of crunching under the feet of a woman running south as I was running north. Started with sunglasses but took them off when they started to fog up. Too hard to see any hidden ice patches or chunks of hard, icy snow. Almost twisted my foot on one of them, early in the run.

jan 28/1.5 MILES

65 degrees
ywca track
+ 500 yard swim

A short run and a shorter swim. Saw several cute kids running–or was it trotting?–with an adult. And a young boy–maybe 12?–running with his dad. An older man–guessing he was around 70–running slowly and steadily and for at least an hour. He had on a marathon shirt and you could tell he was a serious long distance runner. I’d love to be running like that when I’m 70. Saw a 30-something guy who would walk a lap and then sprint two-thirds of a lap. I think I saw him at the track last week too. Wonder if he ever runs straight without stopping. Soccer games were going on below the elevated track, but I didn’t really pay attention to them. My watch seemed off–7 laps to make a mile, not the usual 6. Since the indoor distance is based on number of steps, I must have longer strides at the track and more foot strikes outside.

jan 27/5 MILES

33 degrees
franklin hill turn around

A good run. I went faster than I usually do and ran the whole thing without stopping–even the Franklin hill. Encountered a lot of puddles, wet spots, slick spots, messy spots. My socks and shoes didn’t get soaked but they did get wet. A few times I ended up running straight through some deep puddles. Yuck! I do not like when it gets warm in winter and the snow melts onto the sidewalk, making it wet during the day and icy at night. But, it didn’t bother me too much. Still had a great run, listening to my headphones and getting pumped up by Beck’s “I’m so Free.”

words to describe a path that is mostly clear but still slightly covered with puddles and patches of ice and an occasional chunk of snow:

soppy gloppy goopy slick icy thawing melting defrosting loose/loosening/looser softening messy soaked saturated soggy slushy slippery

jan 26/1.25 MILES

55 degrees
the dome in austin, mn

Was planning to run outside on the sidewalk but it was too wet and sloppy. So Scott and I went to the Dome–which is the Austin High School football field covered with a bubble–and ran a mile. Started out rocky with walkers walking in the opposite direction and getting in our way, but we worked it out.

jan 24/4 MILES

23 degrees
85-90% snow-covered
mississippi river road path north/south

A little colder today. The path was slicker and, in some places, thicker. The snow was heavy and hard to trudge through. Both yesterday and today, my left thigh got tight around the third mile and I stopped to walk for about a minute to loosen it up. I’m hoping it’s not a problem but just a reminder that I’m running on a loose, slippery path that forces my legs to work harder. Not too much wind or sun. I listened to my playlist–mostly because I added Beck’s song, “I’m So Free” from his new album. So good. Too bad it was the first song that came up on my shuffle–while I was still walking and warming up. I’d like to listen to it in the middle of a run.

jan 23/4 MILES

25 degrees
85% snow-covered
mississippi river road path north/south

I love Minneapolis Parks and Rec. Last night we got 12.4 inches of snow and when I went out running this afternoon, the path was already clear. In some parts I could even see bare pavement. Impressive. Such a beautiful day for a run! Blue sky. Not too much wind. Warmer temperature but not warm enough to be sloppy.

About an hour before I went running, my daughter and I took Delia the dog for a walk and we saw people cross country skiing in the street. Don’t think I’ve ever seen that before.

jan 21/5.75 MILES

36 degrees
25% snow-covered
the franklin loop

Wet air. Icy paths. Not a bad run. Very calm. A little tougher than the last run outside. My left hamstring hurt a little 4 miles in, so I stopped to walk for 30 seconds or so. Started running again right as I encountered the daily walker. Actually did 5.25 outside and then, because Scott wanted to run at the y in the afternoon, I tagged a long and did another 1/2 mile there. I’m writing this hours after my run so I’m probably forgetting a lot of what happened. One thing I do remember: running across the Franklin bridge and noticing the tree line along the river. Not sure how, but it was glowing. The sun was illuminating it from somewhere. One other image: at the y, a woman was stretching in the corner of the track right next to the window. She was extremely flexible. At one point, she looked like an alien or a spider as she did a strange squat with her legs open and her knees in line with her torso. After that she went down into the splits and stayed in that position for a few minutes.

jan 19/4.6 MILES

33 degrees
75% snow-covered
franklin hill turn around

Yesterday’s warm temperatures melted some of the snow and ice which turned back into super slick and slippery ice this morning. It looked scary but it wasn’t that bad. I had a decent run. I managed to run down and up the Franklin hill without stopping. The gorge was beautiful. So open and light and still. Yesterday I took Delia the dog down on the Winchell trail below the path. The sun was barely above the path making the walkers and runners on it glow. Speaking of the sun, this morning as I got up off the couch after drinking my coffee to wake my daughter I opened the curtains and was greeted by one of the most beautiful sunrises that I’ve seen in years. Neon orange and pink. Within 10 minutes it was gone and I wondered how many other sunrises I had missed without even knowing it. This illuminating moment came only minutes after I wrote a few words about the difficulty of getting older and finding it harder to wake up:

early morning sitting
on the couch waiting
to wake up
I hear noises
the staticky hum of my son’s computer
the roar of a distant plane
the traffic a mile away
the resigned sigh of my dog sleeping
next to me but wanting
to be chased
through the downstairs
the heat kicks in
a car drives by
I sip my coffee
and lose my words
and my will
to move
and I wonder—
is this what it means to grow old?
to wake up every morning and really have to work at
wanting to do anything but go back to sleep or
sit and stare blankly at the wall as the light
slowly gradually almost imperceptibly
enters the room?

When I saw the sunrise, I realized that I would never have appreciated its beauty when I was younger. So maybe appreciating a sunrise is also what it means to get older, which sounds cliché, but this morning it was true for me and it mattered to make note of it.

jan 18/5.5 MILES

24 degrees
75% snow-covered
franklin loop

Much warmer today! The blanket of snow by the welcoming oaks was beautiful with the bright sun and the bare branches. The air was mostly calm, except for on the Franklin bridge. That was rough. The path was mostly clear, except for right after the Franklin bridge. I twisted my foot a little on the soft, clumpy snow. Overall, a good run.

the path

a few stripes of almost bare pavement on the edges of the path mixed with moments of not quite melting snow that isn’t packed but loose like sand–loose enough not to give solid footing but firm enough to twist an ankle. almost completely white. no satisfying crunch, just a dull thud that absorbs the force of striking feet. no puddles yet. all ice patches gone. most of the path is easy to run on while a few stretches are treacherous.

Yesterday, I experimented with the villanelle form and wrote a poem about running around the track. Here’s the form of a villanelle:

19 lines; 5 tercets + 1 quatrain; 1st and 3rd line of beginning tercet are alternately repeated in third line of remaining tercets, then last two lines of quatrain; rhyme scheme = aba/aba/aba/aba/aba/abaa

A Run Around the Track Isn’t Hard to Do

A run around the track isn’t hard to do
with its road that never runs out
An endless loop, run until you’re through

Warm and dry with a clear avenue
no cars to avoid, no need to shout
A run around the track isn’t hard to do

A little tedious, a lack of view
but a chance to fly fast, to go all out
on this endless loop, run until you’re through

Your brain can go blank, your thoughts can be few
mechanically moving without doubt
A run around the track isn’t hard to do

It can be monotonous, that’s true
encountering the same people on this repetitive route
of endless loops, run until you’re through

So little to look at, so little to do
but keep track of the laps, not losing count
A run around the track isn’t hard to do
but it’s a boring, endless loop, run until you’re through

And here’s another fragment of a poem that I wrote about the track from a few days ago:

more routine than ritual

running inside at the track
attracts a different sort of church-goer
than running outside by the gorge
the congregation at the track comes
for the warm dry conditions and
stays for the comforting repetitions
looping lapping leaving
out the world
cocooned cared for
no wind no rain
but also no fun
more routine than ritual
only a run

jan 17/XT

bike on stand, front room
32 minutes

Watched The Great North Run half marathon on YouTube while I biked. Love watching races when I’m biking. Then walked to the studio and decided to take an existing poem by someone else and turn it into a running poem. It’s fun (and often helpful) to use other people’s poems as a starting point for my own. Today I used Natasha Threthewey’s “Theories of Time and Space.” As a play on her title, I’m calling mine, Strategies for Hill Climbs and Pace:

Strategies for Hill Climbs and Pace

You can run there from here, though
there’s no easy way home.

Everywhere you go will be somewhere
with a hard hill to climb. Try this:

head north on the Mississippi River Road, one—
by—one street signs ticking off

another stretch of your route. Follow this
to its inevitable conclusion—a huge hill

after Franklin, the flats by the U where
the path is a black ribbon

next to a blue river promising a breeze. Run beside
the carefully controlled water, 2 locks and dams

have made it wider and slower—taming
the rapids that once flowed. Run only

as far as you think you can go—remember
you still have to turn around and climb the hill. At the bottom,

where you begin your climb, start slow,
your watch will track your pulse and pace:

the data—how fast you ran, how hard you worked—
will be waiting on your phone when you return

jan 16/4 MILES

65 degrees
ywca track

Went to the track again today because it was cold and because I wanted to try out a speed workout. My first ever, I think. Here’s what I did:

1 mile, easy run
1 mile, 7:55 pace
easy walk, 4 minutes
2 x 1/2 mile, 7:50 pace
easy walk, 2 minutes after each one
2 x 1/4 mile, 7:45 pace
easy walk, 30 seconds after each one
1/2 mile, easy run

It went well and was much more interesting than just running 24 laps around the track. I think I’ll mix it in once every couple of weeks. Too many speed workouts can be bad for training and writing/thinking–I didn’t really think about anything else but my pace and how many laps I still needed to run.

What did it feel like to run faster?

lighter, freer, bouncier, more breeze, less breath, hotter face, less distractions, more focus, more fixation on time pace effort, less awareness of others except for when I wondered what they thought about me running by them so fast or at least so much faster than them

Listened to my playlist and had a strange combination of effort + song: during one of my sprints, “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald” came on. I added this to a playlist for longer runs and didn’t realize it was on the one I was listening to. Maybe I should put together a speed playlist?