Snow, Routine

Man, I had a whole schedule Sunday and everything. And stuck to it. And had a good time at a Super Bowl party (thanks, Jessi).

I cleaned and threw a lot of stuff out Sunday, three tall garbage bags full. I carried them the .2 mi to the dumpster, and Monday my shoulders were sore. I need to get back to working out more often.

I ran, too. It wasn't as cold and the sidewalks were all very clear around where I live and quite a ways up and down the street, too. A mile around the corner, I was just stomping through snow. Though it looked cool when I passed by this house that sits back from the road a bit that always has an exemplary yard. I don't think anyone actually lives there — I only know of companies and non-profits that keep their grounds that well. The yard was a pure sheet of white.

I'm sure I got a much better workout, and I wasn't slowed down too much. But there's nothing as fun as the sound of stomping through crusty snow. It has that "white noise with the bass turned up" sound. That "rending cardboard asunder" sound. The great crushing noise comes in part because snow near the top melted a bit last week and refroze icier, and you break it with every step.

So I run by this house, and the sun is low and shining off this refrozen sheet sitting over a foot of snow.

It was beautiful, like a giant mass of scalded marshmallow fluff.