4am is freaking early.
I am not going to lie. I had a hard time getting out of bed this morning.
But I ripped myself out of bed. Stumbled down stairs.
Got an excessively happy greeting from Porter. I let him out.
Outside looked like this:
Cold. Wet. Dark.
It was sleeting slightly.
Tell myself it is only 3 miles I have to pound out this morning.
I pushed my contacts into my eyes and brushed my teeth.
Pulled my running clothes out of the hamper. Smelled them.
Figured they weren’t THAT bad. Pulled them on.
Realized they were actually kind of funky. Decide I don’t care.
Porter comes back in, damp from the sleet. I towel him off and he runs to his chair.
I lace up my running shoes. And step outside.
Running in an inch or so of snow is kind of like running in sand.
I crest the hill on the south end of town and hear the coyotes howl.
Guess we are the only ones up this early.
On the way back down the hill, there are coyote tracks in my tracks.
I pick up my pace just a little.
I have no idea what I am thinking. I can’t out run anyone in my age group, much less a pack of coyotes.
But it makes me feel a little better.
Run finished, I am coated with a layer of ice that melts as soon as I walk in the door.
Porter greets me like he hasn’t seen me in months. The rest of the house is still asleep.
I guess that makes sense, after all, it is only 5am.