6.2 miles
minnehaha dog park and back
wind: 13 mph / gusts: 27 mph
Another weekend run with Scott. We talked about Ada Limón’s National Park project and I recited Scott’s favorite line from one of the poems featured in the project. The line — Surely you can’t imagine they just stand there loving every minute of it. The poem — Can You Imagine/ Mary Oliver. Scott likes the line because it’s also a line from the Loverboy song, “Loving Every Minute of it.” As we ran into the wind I mentioned the terrible wind (and rain and cold) in the 2018 Boston Marathon. Scott talked about a dream he had last night that he went to a friend’s gig and how, when he woke up, he realized that that friend did actually have a gig last night. He also talked about birds — wild turkeys and his favorite encounter with them when he saw two walking side-by-side down a busy sidewalk near lake street.
When we started running, it was snowing — small flurries. At some point it stopped, but it stayed cold and windy. Writing this now, a half an hour later, I’m still cold.
image of the day: a robin on the edge of path, hopping along then flying across the path. Having noticed the leaves skittering in the wind on the other side of the path, at first I thought the robin was a leaf. But then, when it landed on the fence, I could tell it was a bird. After mentioning it to Scott, I recited a line from ED’s “A bird came down the Walk –“. I think I’ll write a little birding poem about this Robin!
10 Things
- skittering leaves
- a robin — first on the ground as a dark form that could be anything and that I thought was a bird, then fluttering across the path, then landing on the top of the fence
- flurries in the air — steady, then swirling, then a clump of them dumped
- water falling at the falls, a few bits of ice near the edge
- the creek, mostly flowing, but still on the edge, and low
- a walker with an unleashed dog, wandering around the trail
- the view of the river obscured by a screen of thin, unleafed branches
- the fake bells of the light rail on the other side of Hiawatha
- the curve of the river below us as we ran south toward fort snelling
- a steady cadence — the lift lift lift of my feet, slightly slower than Scott’s