A run in the (pretend) snow

There is snow in Lerwick!  Well, sort of.  Actually, not really.  But I so much want there to be snow, and it seems to be everywhere except for where I am, that I've had no choice but to upgrade the wee dusting of flakes that Mother Nature deposited on Shetland last night.

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.