the weather aboveground.

The weatherperson was hinting at snow in a way that made it apparent that there wasn't actually going to be any.  I can't bear the way weather segments, like everything else on TV or in print these days, needs to vie for our attention with maybe-just-maybe drama angling that rarely proves out.

Don't we just want to know what the weather is likely to be, as opposed to being teased with not-going-to-happen hopes for snow or sunshine or whatever else the meteorologist thinks we'd prefer?  And while I'm ranting (and then I'll move on, I promise), when did the person who was the weatherman morph from a homely character I couldn't help but trust even though he was wrong at least 50% of the time into a surgically enhanced spokesmodel who leaves me doubting he or she possesses proper weather foretelling credentials?

There will eventually be a tie-in to running here, I think.

Sundays are running days and, should that offend anyone, go ahead and consider that for me running is resting and so, if nothing else, I'm honoring my Christian upbringing on a technicality.  Growing up in "the church", I've seen enough bending of the rules to not think that logging double-digit trail miles on the 7th day of the week on our modern calendar is enough to banish me to hell. 

Not all on its own.

Sundays with snow?  THAT is a gift from heaven, but not one likely to happen tomorrow.  Admittedly it was only through a television screen, but I looked right into the eyes of Weather Woman and she wasn't fooling me.

The mild winter has enabled me to get in a ton of miles at varying efforts and I'm feeling really good about my current conditioning.  Tomorrow should bring more miles and build on the endurance that is my current point of focus.

BUT, I'd trade it for a day of play in the snow.

Those daydreams led to me digging through the files on my computer looking for run/snow photos and I found a short video clip from a trip west I took last April.  Down (and it's all relative when the "low" elevation on the trip was 7,000 feet) in Escalante, Utah, the temperatures were brisk and the wind was a constant.  No snow, though.  Which is why I hopped in the rental car and drove an hour further southwest to the beautiful Bryce Canyon.

Never been?  Go.

Starting from Rainbow Point (9,115 ft), I encountered the snow I was craving and it accompanied me for several miles as I descended the breathtaking Under the Rim trail. 

I was nursing an Achilles strain at the time and even running downhill I could feel the effects of altitude, so the going wasn't fast.  Throw in a bit of snow and ice and scenery that made me want to stop every five seconds and that pace slowed even further.

At some point I decided to see what my point-and-shoot camera could capture on its video setting and here's what I got:

Just by getting out tomorrow, I'm going to have a blast.  The time outdoors (time NOT indoors) and shared moments with friends is blessing enough.  But, I know my mind will mull over from time to time how much more fun we could be having if there was just a bit of the white stuff to plow through.

So, cut the crap, weather folk, and bring me some winter before it's too late.

twofer.

February is quickly drawing to a close and my running log is woefully empty for the month.  Back-to-back blizzards, sick kids and a busy schedule have wreaked havoc on my regular running schedule.  I don't want to suggest that we live in the middle of nowhere (I wish), but we live rurally enough that the accumulation of 30+ inches of snow means that after the plows have gone there are four to five high walls banked smack up against the roadside, leaving a runner nowhere to hide.

Of course, there's never any shortage of excuses and the reality is that I didn't find a way to get it done these last few weeks.  Between shoveling and snowshoeing, I just barely managed to maintain some level of fitness, though each day I could feel the creep of atrophy.

Today, however, I managed to sneak in a rare twofer, running to work in the morning and then, after being informed by the garage that our minivan was going to have to remain another night, running to my mother's home to beg a ride home for me and my children.

It only ended up amounting to 6 miles total and the elevation gain was fairly tame, but it felt fantastic.  Managing to run not once but twice was truly liberating and, with even more bad weather threatening to wipe out the next couple of days, it seemed important that it happen.

I love me a twofer.

january stalagtites

the snowy day.

If I concentrate really hard I can remember a time (I think) when it snowed in the Susquehanna Valley. Even then though, a pre-winter snowfall of any significance was a rarity. Forecasts call for snow several times a year, but some slight shift in the weather pattern or uncooperative temperatures usually turn promises into wintery mixes, sleet or cold, cold rains.

Tired of the boy crying wolf, when the weathermen were projecting 8"-12" of the white stuff on December 19, I turned a deaf ear. But, sure enough, they got it right this time. Snow it was without a single drop of anything else.

My day began with a quick dash to work to pick up a pair of snowshoes before ducking into the grocery store for supplies other than milk and bread. Snow was already falling, but the roads were in decent condition. At least they were when I left the house. By the time I left Manheim behind me and started the drive "up" into Sporting Hill, conditions had changed dramatically.

Getting home via Mt. Joy Road was out of the question as a jack-knifed feed truck had gobbled up both lanes of traffic and cars were standing in line in both directions. I hung a quick-thinking left hand turn, dropped across the covered bridge on Sunhill Road, crossed over the railroad tracks and...failed to make the inclined turn onto Junction Road. After spinning wheels for a moment, I eased off the gas, put the car in reverse and backed up enough to hopefully get the momentum required to make it up the hill. It sounded great in my head but it didn't work. By my second attempt, other cars had caught onto my brilliant detour and were crowding me from the rear. I-own-an-SUV impatience convinced one driver to pull around me while I backed up and I inched over to the right to create a bit of space between our cars. The end result was the passenger’s side rear tire of my Ford Focus becoming pathetically ensnared between a railroad tie and the actual rail. There I sat directly on the railroad tracks going nowhere.

But I digress. My escape is a story unto itself, but is not the story of my snowy day. Suffice to say, friendly roving snow Samaritans and eventually AAA combined to deliver both me and the vehicle to the safety of my driveway and garage. And, believe it or not, I was grinning the entire time. Snow in December brings with it boundless hope.

Paragraph 2 of this post contains a lie. I tried to turn a deaf ear to the prognosticators but I didn't succeed entirely. On Friday night I found myself wandering into the local hardware store in search of a sled. I left with two. I was fully prepared to hang them in the garage for some later date, but I really, really hoped that they'd get some use the next day. And they did.

After being bundled up by her mother to the point that her arms were suspended straight out at her sides as though her coat was still on its hanger, Lily offered me her mittened hand and we headed for the backyard. Our deep is on a downhill slope that butts up against a decommissioned elementary school playground. The playground also slopes away before joining a farmer's field. Lil and I had a couple of acres all to ourselves though we needed little of that expanse.

Eight inches of powder was enough for the two of us to "wahoo!" and "yay!" maniacally. I'd daydreamed about this day long before actually becoming a father and it was as joyous and magical as I'd imagined. Sub-freezing temperatures, however, cut our festivities short as Lily's sensitive skin was beginning to light up like Rudolph's nose. Whether because she's a trooper or because she sensed Daddy's enthusiasm for sledding, Lil never said a word but there was no hiding the fact that she was frigid. I delivered her to the safety of the house, Lindsay's shared blanket and a steaming cup of cocoa.

Snowblowing blows, but having a long driveway and a short attention span for chores, I ignored the shovel and blew snow. My run was calling.

I own a pair of Crescent Moon Gold 12 running snowshoes, but they've been little more than decorations on my garage wall for the last couple of years. I blew the dust off of them (literally) and adjusted the bindings to accommodate my Mountain Masochists. I had a vague notion of covering the two miles of farmer's fields between my backyard and the nearby section of converted rails-to-trails but was happy enough just to be on snowshoes after a long hiatus.

Running snowshoes are much more compact than traditional snowshoes so that the wearer isn't tripping all over himself or herself. The tradeoff is that these "shoes" don't have the surface area needed to effectively keep wearers up on top of the snow in deep powder. In other words, I and my Gold 12s needed a packed trail or a compressed, icy snow pack of which we had neither. Three-quarters of a mile into my "run", I knew it was time to turn and make this a short "out-and-back".

Except for stopping to snap a quick photo, I ran the whole mile and a half, but I ended up feeling like I ran 10 miles. By the time I got back to the house, I realized that I was absolutely exhausted. I also realized that I still had the same ridiculous grin on my face that had been there since the first flakes began to fall that morning.

To be completely honest, I think that grin had made its way onto my face the very first time I heard mention that it might snow. Deaf ear? What can I say? Snow hope spring eternal.

balancing act.

Maintaining miles during winter months has always proven challenging.  Even though weather tends to become even less cooperative later in the season, December is often the toughest month of all with numerous family obligations and increased hours at work.

There's still time for running, but I have to be careful to seize any and all available opportunities.  I've set the goal of 20+ mile weeks in hopes of hitting April without feeling like I'm starting from scratch.  I don't do gyms, so that means getting outside.

Unless I want to sit out weekdays and log all my miles on longer weekend runs, I have to sneak in runs before and after work.  Our front door is exactly 3.1 miles from my place of work, so I've got a 5K at the ready if and when I don't need to have my car at the ready.  Two to three nights a week, I need to pick up Lily and Piper from the babysitter after work, so I need the car parked outside.

This balancing act has led to my having to plan my running week ahead of time.  I need to determine when and where I'll need the car and packing changes of clothes and shoes.

I'll use the past couple of days as an example.  On Saturday I hoped to run 7 or 8 miles.  I would have also liked to run on Sunday, but had signed on for an 8:30-3:30 weekend work shift.  Lindsay was slated to work on Monday and Tuesday, so it looked unlikely that I'd be able to tack a Monday run on the back end of the weekend.

Here's where brainstorming came into play and managed to secure me 4 separate chances to run.  Midday on Saturday, I pulled out one of my backpacks and filled it with a headlamp, a change of running clothes and two separate sets of pants, shirts, socks and underwear.  I slipped into shorts, sneakers, a long-sleeved shirt and a windshirt (my favorite running layer) before jumping in the car, driving to work and parking in the lot.  Unlocking the front door, I headed up the steps to drop the backpack by my desk before heading back out the door and leaving the car behind.  Nearly 8 miles later, I'd gotten in my Saturday run and was back at home with the family.

Early Sunday morning, I stepped out the front door and into the freezing rain.  I love running in ugly weather and 20 minutes later, I arrived outside my place of work feeling wide awake and ready to punch the clock. 

Eight hours later, having removed the clothes I'd changed into upon arriving at work and slipped into new, dry running wear, I headed back outside for my run home.  Grinning as I passed my still parked car, I noticed that the freezing rain that had turned to rain during the warmer midday hours was now converting back to ice.  Because visibility was limited by the cloud cover and falling sleet, I turned on my headlamp and adjusted the fit on a backpack that I'd decided to test for a possible backcountry hiking/running trip in January.  I'd loaded the pack with my wet clothes from that morning's run and the clothes that I'd worn during my work shift.  I'm sure I looked bizarre as I made my way through Manheim borough and out the other side of town towards home.  I couldn't have been happier.

This morning I tumbled back out my front door for another run to work.  With some careful planning, I'd managed to get in 22 miles for the week and start the next with a brisk 3.1 miles.  The car had patiently waited for my return and was well rested for the drive to pick up Lil and Pipe.

Tomorrow will come and go without any additional miles, but will give me a chance to examine the days ahead, do some laundry and pack appropriately for the rest of the week.