Walked to the studio in the cold sun and felt joy. Much of the sidewalk was covered unevenly with hard packed snow. No wind. I knew it was cold but I didn’t feel cold, just happy and grateful to be outside, breathing in the pure air. When I got to the studio checked the feels like temperature: -11. What has happened to me that I enjoyed weather this cold? I guess I am from/of the North. Been thinking a lot about snow, snow-covered paths, the noises snow makes and why snow sometimes looks blue. I Read Su Smallen’s Kinds of Snow and did some research on snow squeaks. I’m collecting lots of snow words that I hope to use in a poem: snow grains, snow pack, dendrites, hoarfrost, watermelon snow, compacted, trodden, the blue hour, crystals, needles, flakes, graupels, sintering, collapsing, compressing.
Year: 2018
feb 8/4 MILES
6 degrees/feels like -6
50% snow-covered
mississippi river road path, south/minneahaha falls/river road path, north
Another good run. I didn’t mind the cold. Didn’t overdress. Listened for the birds and heard a few. Also heard a lot of snow crunching under my feet. For several stretches I could hear the dull thwack of my feet striking bare pavement. Ran to the right today to see if Minnehaha Falls is frozen over. It is. The trail along the gorge going south is beautiful. You can really see to St. Paul on the other side. It was mostly still and calm outside. Peaceful. Didn’t see any walkers or bikers and only one other runner. I was the only one at the falls. It was quiet, with no water rushing down or even trickling.
Speaking of the Falls, I’m studying a lovely poem about falling water from Alice Oswald: A Short Story of Falling. I’d like to write an homage poem about crunching snow or frozen water.
feb 7/4.2 MILES
6 degrees/feels like -3
100% snow-covered
mississippi river road path, north/south
What a run! It hardly felt cold, except for my hands which took about a mile to warm up. Sunny. Bright blue sky. Clear air. The snow on the path packed tight.
I was the only runner out there. Did I see any walkers? I can’t remember. Glad I didn’t wear any headphones because I got to hear the snow crunching. Two sounds. One that was steady, almost like grinding or styrofoam being crushed. The other that was softer and shorter. I like these sounds, maybe partly because they are a little annoying.
My shadow ran with me today. She was my friend, leading me along. About a mile into the run one of the tassels on my hat, which had been my mom’s cross country skiing hat before she died, hit my shoulder like it was tapping me, trying to get my attention. My mom saying hello? I imagined her there with me.
I don’t remember hearing any birds. I did glance down at the gorge a few times and saw the river. Was it flowing? I can’t remember. Noticed the silhouette of an oak’s gnarled branches against the deep blue sky. There wasn’t a lot of wind, only occasional gusts that picked up the fresh snow that fell sometime last night and swirled it around.
By the end of the run I was very warm. With a mile left, I was dripping sweat. After the run was over my face burned from the sweat that had frozen on my face.
Yesterday, when it felt too bright and too cold and I was stuck in a car, trying to drive, I wondered, like most everyone else I talk to, why winter is so long and when it will leave. But today, outside on the path, breathing in the cold, absorbing the blue sky, feeling the crunching snow, I remembered that I love winter and am fine if it stays for a few more months.
feb 6/3.1 MILES
65 degrees
ywca track
Ran inside at the track. More crowded than I expected for 2pm on a Tuesday. I guess you could call what I did a tempo run. A little faster but not too fast. I’m writing this the day after the run, so I don’t remember much. Not too many runners, many more walkers. Saw a walker who seemed to be limping wearing thick black socks. He made it around the track for a few laps before sitting down on a chair. Also passed a woman using a walker. Didn’t recognize anyone else that I’ve seen before. No one pulling a sled or crawling. Did see someone using the long ropes–the ones that you grab in your hands and shake, making them look almost like snakes slithering or a wave rushing away from you. What are those called? Looked them up–battle ropes.
feb 4/1.5 MILES
65 degrees
ywca track
Another Sunday run at the track. The guy who runs at a lean was there, running fast and running with his head tilted slightly to the right. Saw an older women–in her 70s? 80s?–running around the track, looking strong even as she was hunched forward. Also saw an older guy–I’d guess he was in the his 70s too–running. Earlier in the day, driving on the river road, saw the Daily Walker and thought about running outside instead of the track, but it was cold and I wanted to go to the hot tub with Scott, so I didn’t.
feb 3/5.25 MILES
18 degrees/feels like 5
100% snow-covered
mississippi river road north/hennepin avenue bridge
Ran on the river road to downtown in the snow. My first time this winter running while it was snowing. Beautiful. It wasn’t too cold. The snow wasn’t too deep or annoying–except for when it felt like little knives hitting my face. There weren’t too many other people out on the path. I think I saw 3 or 4 runners. I was alone in the flats below the U. The steep hill almost to downtown was a bit tough so I walked it for a few minutes. Right at the base of the Hennepin Avenue bridge there was a zipline set up so people in town for the Super Bowl could zip across the river.
I loved this run today.
Heard the snow crunching again and noticed how the steady crunch sound traded off between my feet. The path today was a little more slippery and not packed down because it was steadily snowing. A few days ago I wrote a haiku about how the wet snow felt like running in the sand but I think that this dry, powdery, freshly-fallen snow felt more like running in the sand–especially the soft sand by the river.
Birds
Almost forgot to mention the birds. Running in the quiet snow, I kept hearing birds. Not geese or crows but something cooing or chirping. So odd to hear these calls which make me think of spring while running in the pure white solitude.
Here’s a poem about birds that I recently found and really like:
Bird Song —Rebecca Taksel
After all these years
I still don’t know the name
of the bird who has followed me
with his early-morning song
to all the places I’ve lived.
I’ve never asked
“Which bird is that, singing now?”
I remember hearing him first
on a spring morning in childhood
somewhere in the woods
behind our little house, his song clear
above the thousand little sounds
of grass and water and trees around us.
I’ve thought about the deaths I fear,
but only now do I know the death I want:
to let that song be the last thing I hear,
and not to mind at all that I never learned
the singer’s name.
Oh—and another thing about birds: After my run, and after meeting Scott at the coffee place, we walked by a tree, right in front of a spa/salon where they had thoughtfully placed half a dozen bird feeders. Little birds like to gather here. I know because I’ve walked by this tree before. As you approach the birds they flutter and fly, only briefly, away from the tree. It’s a beautiful thing to see.
And a few more lines about birds from a poem:
Snow melts into the earth and a gentle breeze
Loosens the damp gum wrappers, the stale leaves
Left over from autumn, and the dead brown grass.
The sky shakes itself out. And the invisible birds
Winter put away somewhere return…
(from The Late Wisconsin Spring/ John Koethe)
feb 2/4.05 MILES
-1 degree/feels like -10
15% snow-covered
mississippi river road path, north/south
Cold. Sub-zero. Arctic. Freezing. Frigorific. Brisk. Polar. Frozen. Chilly. I didn’t care. Had a great run outside. Almost too warm in my layers: a buff covering my head, ears, neck, mouth; a hood; a hat with ear flaps; a green running shirt; a black running pull-over; a pink jacket; a gray jacket; fleece running tights; fleece sweatpants; two pairs of socks and two pairs of gloves + sunglasses. Just a little too much. It’s hard to gauge because I start out so cold. Saw a few fat tires, one person walking their dog, a handful of other walkers and the Daily Walker. My favorite person to see. Don’t think I saw anyone else running. Heard some loud geese honking somewhere under the Lake Street Bridge. What are they still doing here? Heard some mysterious clanging or buzzing coming from the railroad bridge as I ran under it. Heard a helicopter hovering–was it related to pre Super Bowl stuff happening downtown?
I ended my run at 4 miles, right by the welcoming oaks. Walking, I began to notice how my left and right foot each provided a slightly different crunching sound. I liked it so much, I had to record the sound:
Then I created an acrostic poem describing the sound and my experience of hearing it this morning:
Crunching Snow
A constant crunch
Underfoot
Two versions—one fast
One slow, one
Never stopping, steadily crushing ice crystals
One
Making quick forceful snaps
One soft, one loud both
Unrelenting in their
Soundtrack,
Sinking deep into my
Ears these
Noises do
Something that
Opens me up makes my brain
Rattle vibrate buzz makes me
Yield to the sensation
Makes me
Earnest with my attention trying to conjure up the
Right words to capture the
Is of this musical moment cars
Drive by as
I
Attempt to classify the
Noise—somewhat like static but not white noise—is it
yellow noise? a happy yellow buzz
Radiating a constant crackling
Energy that
Sizzles on the
Path?
Outside this moment, it might be just
Noise, but right now the
Sound of crunching snow is
Everything.
jan 31/3.75 MILES
26 degrees
99% snow-covered
mississippi river road path, north/south
Woke up in this morning, opened the door and was completely shocked to see a fresh dusting of snow. About an inch. I shouldn’t be surprised, I guess, but I was. This dusting is the annoying kind, hiding the icy patches that have lingered on the sidewalk after the big warm-up/melt last week. Yuck. It was a bit treacherous walking to the river, but once I started running on the path it was fine. I had a good run. Listened to my playlist and enjoyed the warmth of the sun. I continue to run negative splits without trying.
For my poetry class this week, I had to write a haiku/haikus. I decided to create some about the condition on the running path:
An ice-covered path
is slick but not slippery
when you run, not walk.
Dry snow on a path
makes a satisfying snap
under running feet.
The wet snow muffles
my striking feet as I run
above the river.
An inch of powder
conceals ice chunks and slick spots.
I run cautiously.
Ice doesn’t sparkle.
It taunts and teases and hides
under the new snow.
Warmer air. Melting
snow. Paths with puddles soak socks
before refreezing.
Sunny. A clear path
and a clear mind allow me
to have a great run.
Running through wet snow
is like running on warm sand
except much colder.
jan 30/1.8 MILES
65 degrees
ywca track
+ 1250 yard swim
Swam in the pool before running. Felt pretty good. I like swimming outside in the lake much better. The air is nicer and the swim is more interesting. Plus, less flip turns and less opportunity to stop. Once you start swimming across the lake, you have to keep going. Even so, this swim was fine. Ran almost 2 miles on the track after the swim. That felt good too. I’m definitely running faster than last year, but I wasn’t paying attention to my pace. Found myself trying to keep an even distance behind a runner ahead of me who was going at a fast (for me) pace. His right arm moved back and forth awkwardly with each step and his whole head leaned slightly to the right. Does he know this happens? I wonder how I look to others as I run? Scott told me I look a bit stiff–almost like a machine. Do either of my legs swing out awkwardly? Are my feet in line? My head straight? Someday, I’ll have to get some video of myself running.
jan 29/4 MILES
10 degrees/feels like 2
mississippi river road path, north/south
Cold again. Didn’t bother me. Actually, it didn’t seem too cold. Maybe it was the number of layers I was wearing. Or maybe it was the fact that I’m used to running in the cold. Ran without headphones and heard some birds chirping. The path was almost completely clear and dry and hard. Did it feel harder because it was colder? Couldn’t hear my own feet on the path but did notice a lot of crunching under the feet of a woman running south as I was running north. Started with sunglasses but took them off when they started to fog up. Too hard to see any hidden ice patches or chunks of hard, icy snow. Almost twisted my foot on one of them, early in the run.