As active a person as I am, I have somehow managed to miss opportunities to run during a snowfall…until today.
I wasn’t supposed to run. I ran seven miles yesterday recognizing that with today being Christmas, there would be no time to do my customary Saturday “long run.” So today I would take a rest day and run a few miles tomorrow before going to church. But I couldn’t resist.
This morning Nashvillians awoke to our first White Christmas since 1993. It’s the kind of snow that sticks to tree branches, but doesn’t stick to the roads. In other words, it’s my kind of snow. I had a pretty busy day planned. I made a country ham breakfast for the hubs, and after he and I exchanged gifts it was time to get ready for Christmas dinner with my extended family (aunts, uncles, cousins, cousins-once-removed, in-laws, out-laws). By the time we returned home from the holiday ho ho it was still snowing outside. And it was still not sticking to the streets. I had to get out there.
It was about 5:45 and I only had a few minutes of daylight left. I added a headlamp to my stocking cap. After fielding a comment from the hubs…something about looking like I was about to climb Mount Everest…I was out the door. And it was glorious.
The temperature was about 28 or 30 degrees. It felt refreshing after being indoors all day. As daylight gave way to night, the snowflakes blowing in front of streetlights looked like teeny tiny crystals. A few people were outside walking their dogs. There was plenty of motor traffic, yet I still enjoyed that stillness that comes from everything being covered with a blanket of snow. On my way back home, the snow blew toward me. The flakes were lit by my headlamp and they took on the appearance of a laser show.
I don’t consider the three miles I ran today a training run. It was an experience run. I didn’t need the mileage; I’ve run plenty this week. I needed to know what it felt like to run in a Winter Wonderland. And to do so on Christmas day was the proverbial coconut on top of the cake.
Here in Nashville, when we sing “I’m dreaming of a White Christmas,” we’re not kidding. If the past is any indication of things to come, we’ll have our next one in 2023. On that day when the weatherman says, “This is the first White Christmas in Nashville since 2010,” I’ll think to myself, “Yep, I remember that one. I ran three miles.”