Whelp, Howdy There Folks

Life in the Upper Valley has been quite delicious of late, full of Thanksgiving feasts (I had three) and miles ran. It would be easy to go forth and talk about these epic turkey spreads, of the team’s inaugural race, or of how the training and community service work have been progressing. Even to waggle the chin regarding the recent duck hunting adventures on frozen waters, or of my physical therapy sessions to get movement back into my healing toe (side note: in good news, my therapist believes that although I cannot currently bend my toe per se, I should, in time, gain back full range of motion) would be a pleasure. But alas, none of this will suffice. As I sit here at our dining room table, contemplating just what to write about and listening to Brian scream at the television in fiery rage (apparently he was unjustly, unmercifully and undeservingly killed in the newest release of the Call of Duty video game), only one thing clearly and joyfully jumps to the front of my mind begging, pleading, nay, imploring to be told. And that my friends, is of that wonderful day, the day of the year’s first snow fall.

Now don’t get me wrong, we’ve had snow fall from the sky already this year (psh, who do you think we are? Florida?). No no, what I am talking about is the first of the snow to land and accumulate in vast quantities on the ground. Okay okay, I’ll admit ‘vast’ might be an exaggeration, but still, the ground was covered and the trees white. And, allowing me to digress momentarily, I have to divulge, that while I have hung up my skis in pursuit of a career in athletics, something inside me always awakens when the flakes begin to fall, yearning for a world blanketed by a thick layer of deep snow. But I wander! Back to the task at hand. This past Saturday the team set out on a terrific long run along the banks of the Connecticut River. It was a gentle twenty miler, with a gradual (some might argue my word choice here) four mile climb in the middle up to the high point. Things were going smoothly, we were just clipping along having a grand old time, when, as we turned up the dirt road signally the beginning of our climb, the sky opened up, spitting snow with such flurry that our foot steps disappeared as soon as they were formed. A rosy hue emerged on my bare knees and I had to fight to keep the snow from packing into my eye sockets, reducing my visibility to mere feet. Lips pursed, I crested the top of the climb, legs perfectly numb, eyes burning from the onslaught of frozen crystals, and with the knowledge of still having nine more miles to run the simple question of “what am I doing here?” may, just may have crept into my mind for a fleeting second. But just as quickly as it entered, a deafening response boomed forth, erasing all doubt and uncertainty. The response, from the depths of my being, which shone forth like a beacon of light? “This... is... awesome!” A smile slipped across my face, as the kid inside me burst through joyfully. The rest of the run was nothing less than a treat. The snow had created a new world to explore, an adventure waiting to be had.

The snow has since all melted away, and our plans to vacate the Upper Valley to the refuge of Santa Barbara for winter training is looming. While the rest of my teammates are eagerly awaiting our western departure, I will miss the snow and ice. I will just have to hope for a few good snowstorms before we go, giving me due time to enjoy a proper winter, and rejoice in all it has to offer.

Now that there was a true story, until next time,

Ben