There certainly isn't anything even vaguely approximating snow near work or at my flat, so imagine my great joy when I went out for tonight's 3 mile run and found snow only a five minute walk away. As soon as I crossed over at the Tesco roundabout on the South Road, there was snow! Actually, it was more like slushy ice with a frosty layer on top but, hey, it was white.
Tonight was beautifully clear and cold, with a sliver of fingernail moon hanging in the sky. I was looking forward to the run (yep, that's a bit of foreshadowing). It wasn't a horrible run by any means, but the slushy ice quickly became slippery ice on the path around the loch. I amused myself for awhile by trying my absolute best to land mid-foot, because as soon as I started pushing off with my toes, I started to slip on the ice. A good test of my form, and one that I didn't do too badly at.
But then my legs started to get tired, and I had to run slower and slower to manage the ice, and I even had to walk up one hill because if I had tried to run, my feet would have gone out from under me and I would have ended up flat on my face. AND THEN, I was overtaken by a huffing, puffing, heel-striking, heavy footfalling pensioner in baggy trackie bottoms, a puffa jacket, and plimsolls. I was mortified, and upped my pace so that I overtook him on the next hill. Not that I'm competitive or anything...
Aside from racing the pensioner, it was a slow run and it was a harder run than even Sunday's 10-miler. I'll blame it on the ice, shall I? Now, if I had only had my Yak Trax (and if I only knew how to get them on my shoes), I would have been flying.
Maybe next time.