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
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.

The Rise & Fall of a Momocracy

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