Running away from winter


I don’t have to tell you folks that this winter is getting long. Yesterday, when I was scraping the accumulated ice off the car in the freezing rain, or later, when I was bent against the head wind, snow assaulting my face, my spirits were understandably low. There has been a marked absence of spring in my step. (Ha! SPRING!) A grayness that has seeped all the way to my soul and has numbed me to joy, much like Edmund, when he consumes the Snow Queen’s Turkish delight.

Always Winter, Never Christmas.

I may also be feeling the teensiest bit dramatic about the whole thing.

There is some comfort in knowing that I am not alone. Virtually everyone is suffering an end of season malaise. Hubby is very nearly beyond help. He lies on the couch, surrounded by seed catalogs, muttering, “It will never be warm again…” I’d roll my eyes, but I’m conserving all my energy for the final, desperate crawl into spring.

But that was yesterday.

Today I am as light and happy as a bunny. I have been infused with an all-encompassing joy, a miracle transformation brought about not by a sudden change in the weather or the marshaling of some overlooked pocket of inner strength. No! I have been touched by a profound and powerful witchcraft, a time-tested bit of magic passed down through the ages.

Cinderella had her glass slipper, the twelve princesses their dancing shoes and Dorothy those troublesome ruby slippers.

I have new running shoes.

Yesterday was gray and wet and snowy and miserable. The exact perfect time to slip into my favorite running store and dream of warm breezes in my hair and the dry pavement beneath my feet. The lone salesman, a runner himself (they all are runners, which makes them ever so much more patient) was more than accommodating. He let me try on roughly a thousand pairs of shoes–pink shoes, orange shoes, purple, green!– all the while debating their relative merits. And when he found out I was a mid- to forefoot striker and interested in transitioning to a no-drop shoe…? He just about clapped his hand with glee.

“Hold on!” He said, and we were off into the world of minimalist running shoes. Long story short, I am now the owner of a beautiful pair of Brook Pure Connects. Sigh. No stacked heel at all, I think they weigh all of eight ounces, but still with a nice bounce beneath.


This more than likely means nothing to you. For me it is a new challenge, a focus for the upcoming season and the promise of a shiny, happy spring. This is a whole new way of running, and if you are interested, I’d suggest you read this.

“Now, don’t run in these more than, say, ten minutes to start with.” my wonderful salesman cautioned. “You need to get used to them. In fact, just put them on as soon as you get home and walk around your house with them for a while.”

Dude. I totally do that anyways.

I’m doing it right now.