Crème Brulee
Never underestimate the restorative power of a good run in the woods.
When I went to bed there was the pitter patter of freezing rain on the windows with the prognostication of snow to come.
The great irony, or should I say – one of the great ironies – of travel is that you sometimes get to enjoy the same weather and storm systems more than once in the same week. When you fly west to east you leapfrog the front and get to enjoy it several times.
So – this was the same freezing rain that I enjoyed in Lexington KY the previous night. Now I was enjoying it again in the north western suburbs of Boston.
Kentucky is a pretty place with its rolling blue grass farms in which nervous thoroughbreds pace behind endless white plank fences. I always make the mistake of thinking that places like Kentucky and Missouri are going to be warm – or at least warmer than Boston. My logic thinks that these are southern states and therefore should be warm, right?
A quick glance at a weather map of the US would quickly dispel these thoughts. There is a great U shaped trough of cold air that dips down in the center of the country. This is the glacial air that bulges down from Canada that the weather people refer to as the Siberian Express. The apex of this bulge is in the country’s heartland around Missouri and Kentucky.
The storms of rain and sleet and snow ride this curve down into the center of the country and then back up racing towards New England and Quebec.
It was just about freezing when I ran a slow 40 minutes out and back from the hotel late Monday night. I found a broad cement sidewalk around malls and office buildings. The roads were for the most part deserted and the mist was freezing in the grass.
Perhaps the sweat and steam from my sweater evaporated and was carried North East to coat my old truck with ice.
By Wednesday morning when I awoke the rain had turned to snow and back to rain. It was the forecasters describe as a ‘wintery mix’. There was left on the ground 2-3 inches of snow on top of the fallen branches from the previous week’s ice storm.
I had to get back on a plane Wednesday afternoon and decide to work from home. Work has been stressful in the last few weeks for a number of reasons. This morning was particularly bad. Things were not going well and it was all on my shoulders. It was getting to me.
I needed to clear my head. I needed to find my center. There is really only one way to do this. There is one place for me to re-center. In the woods. On the run. With the dog.
We got ready to go. I got ready by pulling on my tights and Buddy got ready by acting excited.
It had stopped snowing by early morning and had switched to a freezing rain. The snow was like a giant plate of crème brulee. A thin, crunchy, caramelized crust over a couple inches of powder. Each foot fall made a resounding crunch.
I always run in the snow. Even when it gets deep and drifts Buddy and I break trail. If it gets too deep the dog lets me lead. We ‘post hole’ on the way out with my big size 12’s making craterous holes. My canine companion leaps from hole to hole and sometimes we trade off breaking the new trail. There is nothing as peaceful as a run in the deep snow. Of course it is a lot of work, but it is great exercise. Eventually we pack down a reasonable trail.
The worst conditions are when it snows deep, rains on top and then freezes. The thick crust is awful for running. Sometimes it supports you, sometimes your foot falls through and lodges under the sharp edge, abusing your shins and ankles.
Buddy hates these crust conditions. He’ll be cruising along and a foot will break through the crust and he’ll go down hard like a race horse that has broken a leg mid-stride. In these conditions he’ll stay behind me and run in my footprints, and he really hates that. He feels it is his God given right to run point on the pack.
Last year we had a few weeks where we had to run in these conditions and the only real solution was snow shoes. I would go first with the shoes to break the trail and agent K-9 would follow. The over eager jerk crowds me and steps on the back of the snow shoes just as I’m about to take a step, and down I go. He’s like a Ferrari in traffic. He wants to pass, he wants to go but he’s stuck behind an old snow plow on the highway.
Today the ice was thin and the snow was light. Buddy ran ahead crunch-crunching in the lead. The floods from the ice storm had receded. The destruction had waned. We were able to cross at the Boy Scout Bridge and complete our entire 10K loop.
On the trail behind my house were the fresh heart-shaped hoof prints of a deer. The muddy tracks of a truck scarred one of the old trails. The farmer who owns this property lets hunters drive in to take deer. The tracks showed evidence that the truck had a difficult time in the ice and snow and mud.
Sometimes on runs like this Buddy will just start dancing in circles like he is so happy he cannot contain himself. You can learn a lot from a dog about the joy of running.
As we slogged through the rain and mud and slush the stress and anger and frustration and even some of the tiredness began to unwind from my being. This is my therapy. By the time I rolled back home all was well again – all the humors were in balance. I was ready to go. A quick shower and off to the airport for my next adventure.