Cold Running

I haven't been very enchanted by this city in the year that I've lived here. Perhaps that's because I haven't seen as much of it as I would like to; my own fault, of course. I was spoiled by living across from Humboldt Park for four years, which I found far more lovely with its little streams and paths and fishing docks than Hefner Lake (a mile from my home), although Hefner's 9.4 mile running/biking path isn't to be taken lightly. And of course neither can hold a candle to the backwoods of the house in South Dakota, with the acres of trees and grasses and hilly roads. How I miss the Black Hills.

It was another unusually cold day here, 20 degrees, bright and sunny, but fortunately easy on the wind, which is also unusual. I wanted soup, and to bake warm, comforting loaves of bread. And although John was keen on the bread idea, he's a little souped out. I'm a little breaded out - my body is cranky with it. Too much gluten, not enough green leafy vegetables.

So instead of staying indoors and baking bread (and probably eating it), I opted to do my 4 mile run - must work the mileage back up slowly - outdoors. Seven other runners out there, too, the trail all to ourselves. Usually we're outnumbered by hardcore bikers, but not today. The cold was almost unnoticeable under the clarity of the blue sky, the bright sunlight, the shadows of frozen aspens striping the running path.

Kitty's watching me type. He's wearing his happy face.