Year: 2018

april 16/4 MILES

32 degrees
50% snow-covered
mississippi river road path, north/south

This weekend it snowed. A lot. Almost 20 inches. 2 inches an hour, at one point. It started late Friday night and didn’t stop until Sunday morning. But then only for a couple of hours. before starting again. Difficult to run in. So much snow that school was cancelled for the kids. In April. This is very wrong and I am over it. Thankfully, the path was clear today and I was able to run. In some spots, the path was completely clear. In others, there was only a thin strip of bare pavement. On my way back, I encountered more puddles and big chunks of snow that the plow on the road had kicked up. It felt good to be outside running after several days of being trapped in the house. What do I remember for the run? The wind in my face occasionally. Then, beside me. Then, at my back. The dull crunching of the snow when I ran over it, then the soft thud of my feet on the bare pavement. The cars rushing through puddles and splashing up water. I wondered if the water would hit me (it never did). The running felt good, strong. I felt like I was springing off the path.

Watched the Boston marathon this morning. Such miserable conditions–38 degrees, lots of rain, strong head wind. Des Linden was awesome. Had fun cheering for the persistent underdog.

Not much else to write. This weather is crushing my creative spirit.

april 12/6.4 MILES

40 degrees
franklin loop + extra

Felt much warmer than 40 degrees. Was it the sun? The lack of snow? The belief that spring was coming? Had a great run. Decided to try a variation on my franklin loop route. Ran north on the west mississippi river road, crossed the franklin bridge, ran south on the east mississippi river road past the lake street bridge and up the somewhat steep hill to Summit. Turned around, ran down the hill, over the lake street bridge and then south on the west mississippi river road. I liked it–even the hill.

What do I remember from my run? Lots of birds chirping. Turning on the river road just behind a runner who, after passing the parking lot, held up 4 fingers in one hand, 1 in the other. Why 5? Was he signaling to someone? Reminding himself that he had just run 5 miles or 5 loops or what? He was running faster than me–not fast enough for me to catch him, but fast enough to make me run a little faster too. I never found out what he was doing and by the time I had been running for 10 minutes, I forgot all about it. Greeting the Daily Walker. Greeting a runner I was passing who said “good morning” to me first. Deciding to run onto the Franklin bridge instead of below it into the west river flats. Running on the bridge and noticing the east river flats. Passing a few more runners. Smiling. Deciding to keep running past the Lake street bridge and run up the steep hill to Summit. Running close enough to the trees by the bridge to almost reach out and touch them. Turning around at the top of the hill and thinking about how I would be running up this hill in 2 weeks for a 10k race. Checking to see if the eagle was perched on the dead limb of a tree. Feeling good, relaxed. Loving how clear the path was and wondering how covered in snow it would be after the winter storm hits on Saturday. Looking down at the floodplain forest: a little bit of snow, bare branches.

At the end of my run, I stopped at an overlook to take in the beautiful view of the river and to listen to the birds, especially the woodpecker. Here’s a recording of some sounds:

april 11/4 MILES

38 degrees
minnehaha falls loop

It may be only 38, but it feels like spring outside. Sunny. Birds calling. Paths clearing. Water flowing. I am ready! Last night, I finished the (hopefully) final poem about the crunching snow that I will write this year. I’m ready for a new subject.

Recorded the sounds of spring as I was walking back home, at the end of my run:

april 9/4 MILES

33 degrees
50% snow-covered
mississippi river road path, north/south

More snow. An inch or two. Much of it melted by the time I started running. The rest of it–either soft grains that were fun to run through or slick, icy patches to try and avoid. Last year it was 57 degrees on my April 9th run. This winter has been much longer. Still, it was a good run. Encountered a few runners. The Daily Walker–passed him twice and then we turned off the river road at the same time. I thought about introducing myself, but then didn’t. Noticed the cars rushing by quickly, their wheels whooshing through the puddles on the road. The word for today’s run? Wet. Not too many big puddles on the path but lots of slick, shiny stretches. Wet roads. Big drips of melting snow that dropped off the bottom of the bridges and onto my face or my back or the brim of my hat as I ran under them. Dripping eaves. Gushing gutters. The big melt, part two–or is this part three?

Walking back home after my run, I recorded some wet sounds:

I love water. I’d like to read more water poems and maybe write some myself. Here’s an excerpt from a water poem I read last month that I want to remember (ed bok lee, water in love):

Worship, splash, guzzle, or forget
It clears any difference
Stone washer and mountain dissolver
that will
outlive us, even the memory of
all any eyes touched

april 8/4.4 MILES

32 degrees
10% snow-covered
almost Franklin hill turn around

Took several days off from running because my kneecap seemed liked it had displaced on Friday night, while I was sleeping. I was certain that I would be out for another month but suddenly, it felt better. Still sore, but much better. Very grateful. Whenever I injure my knee, I don’t worry as much about running as I do walking. Running is great, but walking is necessary.

Today’s run was wonderful. Cold and windy, but I didn’t care. I got to run without pain or uncertainty. Listened to my running playlist and blocked out the noise of the wind rushing past my ears. Didn’t encounter too many runners or walkers. What do I remember? I noticed the runner with the bright yellow shirt and thought about how my orange shirt was just as bright. I smiled a lot and almost spread my arms wide in a big hug. Encountered several runners going fast. Thought about running all the way to the bottom of the Franklin hill but decided to stop just under the bridge and turn around. Noticed that my right knee was a little sore and wondered if it would be a problem when I finished (it wasn’t). Was able to mostly run on the walking path instead of only on the bike path. Didn’t see any bikers or roller skiers or big packs of runners. Twisted my foot a little on a patch of ice.

A few days ago, I discovered a new poetic form: contrapuntal. I decided to write one about 2 sounds that crunching snow makes when I walk on it.

Here are my notes:

First, I noticed the noise: a crisp, sharp, snap. Delightfully dissonant, cutting through the quiet and the soft settling of my foot on the snow-covered path. Did I like it partly for its grating, grinding quality?

Then, I noticed its counterpoint: a soft, steady crush of crystals that never ceased. Sometimes creaking, occasionally squeaking. Always there, buzzing, humming under the other noises—birds chirping, planes rumbling, a car door slamming.

Before I had only made note of the noise and how it shattered my idea of snow as silent. Now I wondered how the different noises fit together. Why two? What was causing the multiple melodies? The crack crack crack with the crushcrushcrushcrushcrush?

Then, I understood. The two sounds traveled, trading off between my feet. As one foot cracked, the other crushed. Right crack left crushcrushcrush left crack right crushcrushcruch. The biomechanics of a step amplified! My body singing through snow!

And here’s my poem:

april 4/4 MILES

17 degrees
95% snow-covered
mississippi river road path, north/south

It snowed. 9 inches total. Didn’t bother me at all. What a glorious run! So beautiful–a bright blue sky, powdery perfect white snow, my shadow beside me. Checked the “feels like” temp before I went out: 6 degrees. It didn’t feel cold at all. Actually, I was warm for most of the run. The path was plowed and mostly packed with a narrow strip of almost clear pavement. Not too much wind. Passed the Daily Walker at the beginning. Heard birds chirping, cars rushing by, snow crunching, snowblowers blowing, plows plowing, a few dogs barking.

Recorded the crunching snow (hopefully) for the last time:

april 2/5.1 MILES

30 degrees
franklin loop

In a few hours, it’s supposed to snow again. 1-3 inches today. 1-3 inches tonight. 1-3 inches tomorrow. Wet, heavy snow. Yuck! I decided to get out and run before the path was covered again. Was able to run most of the way on the walking path instead of the biking path. Had to stop and walk twice because it was windy and I was running too fast. Listened to headphones. What do I remember? Hearing some sort of howling or barking or moaning down in gorge that I could barely hear over my music. Thought about taking off my headphones to listen more closely but didn’t. I wonder what it was? Tried to focus on keeping my shoulders back and my chest forward, with my arms swinging straight back, relaxed. Looked to see if the eagle was perched on the dead tree by the bridge. They weren’t. Saw the Daily Walker. Admired the beautiful Mississippi as I ran over the Franklin bridge. Noticed that it felt humid and hard to breathe. Glanced down at the east river flats and thought about how hidden they will be once the leaves return to the trees–will I ever try running down there alone? Probably not. Took note of the paved path leading down into the gorge, towards the Lake street bridge–it’s much closer to the road down to the east river flats than I thought.

Read a poem by Mary Oliver earlier this morning and encountered the phrase, “deep, moist summer.” I don’t like how summer is moist. I also don’t like the word moist. I hate humidity and I don’t like how overwhelmingly green and thick with vegetation summer is, even as I love so much about the season. I will miss winter running–so quick, crisp, sharp and slick.

april 1/2.1 MILES

60 degrees
ywca track

A quick run on the indoor track. Cold outside. Most likely wet, slushy snow tomorrow and the day after that. Where is spring? Read a headline from the MPR weather guy–Will we skip spring and go straight to summer? Nooooooo!!!

The track was crowded with an irritating walker who stubbornly refused to follow the rules (that were painted on the track) and walked in the center lane, making it difficult to pass on either side.

 

march 30/3.2 MILES

30 degrees
mississippi river road path, south/north

Cold but clear. Hardly any snow left. Felt pretty good. Wish I could remember more. Saw my shadow for a few minutes but then it turned gray. Encountered some dogs and runners and, after a long absence, a roller skier! Spring is coming. More evidence? Saw the U of M rowers out on the river yesterday.

march 28/6.7 MILES

42 degrees
the washington bridge turn around

Birds! So many chirping birds. And sunshine. And clear paths. And the feeling that spring is coming sometime soon. Ran down the franklin hill in the flats, all the way to the washington avenue bridge by the U and back. Felt strong and relaxed. Walked most of the way up the hill on the way back, but didn’t care (well, not too much) because it was still a good run. Started my run by getting to greet the Daily Walker. Encountered several runners and a few bikers. Saw my shadow–she was beside me today.

The wind was strong on the way back home and I had to run right into it. This wind was a wall. I hit it and happily stopped just a few tenths shy of my goal: 7 miles.