5.1 miles
bottom of franklin hill
37 degrees / humidity: 91%
Fog. Mist. And is that a very light drizzle or just the over-saturated air? Felt cold in the beginning — that damp, gets-in-your-bones cold — but warmed up by the end of the first mile. Waved at Mr. Morning!, said Hi! to Dave, the Daily Walker. Smiled at many other people I encountered. The fog made everything seem muffled, relaxed.
10 Things, Water
- beyond the flood plain forest, the river, glowing a silvery white, iced over
- small puddles on the path
- my forehead was damp for most of the run — not sweat, but drizzle or the damp
- in the flats, the river, almost completely open, only a few chunks of bright white ice floating on the surface
- the slick sound of water in car and bike wheels
- stepped in some squishy mud where snow had melted on the dirt trail
- some people down in longfellow flats, right by the river, laughing
- hardly any snow anywhere, almost all melted
- low visibility, enveloped in fog
- my pink headband at the end of the run: soaked with sweat
Before I ran, I started thinking about a hybrid chapbook idea: combining some of my water poems with the moments in my log where they started. I want to call it Waterlogged. Initially I thought I would just use poems about swimming in Lake Nokomis, but as I ran, I thought about all the different water-related things I’ve written, about the fog (yes, this idea was inspired by today’s weather), the crunching snow, the gorge and erosion, sweat/humidity/dew point. Maybe even a 10 Things list about water?
Running north, I listened to the water and my feet crunching on the sandy debris on the trail. Running south, I listened to Dear Evan Hansen.