Category: Running Log

dec 3/RUNSWIM

3.65 miles
trestle turn around
17 degrees / feels like 2
100% snow and ice covered

It snowed again last night. A dusting. I think we might get a lot of snow this winter. Hooray! I’m ready for winter running! Today, I didn’t like running straight into the wind at the beginning, but it wasn’t too bad and it was at my back on the way home. I liked running with the yaktrax. At first, my feet were sore, but that didn’t last long. There were a few runners, some walkers. No skiers or bikers.

Geese! A small vee in the sky, a cacophony of honks under the trestle. When I looked up to watch the geese, I admired the BLUE! sky, with only a few clouds.

Running back, I heard the tornado siren. No worries — it’s the first Wednesday of the month and that’s when they test it. One problem: it’s supposed to be tested at 1, and it was noon. Mentioned it to Scott and his suggestion: someone forgot to adjust the timer for daylight savings time.

Anything else? Near the end of my run, I enjoyed listening to the quick, sharp sound of my spiked feet piercing the snow. The sliding bench was empty. Oh — the streets looked bright silver — caused by the sun hitting the ice and snow on the road. The river was streaked with white, and not completely covered. I noticed traces of dirt on the trail where the park workers had come through to make the path less slippery — they don’t use salt because it would do damage to the river. A small thing, but evidence: of someone else here before me, the daily labor of maintaining safe (and fun) winter trails, and care for others.

Richard Siken!

I think I posted a Richard Siken! heading a few months ago, but his new book is so amazing, it’s worthy of another heading with an exclamation point. Last night, during Scott’s jazz rehearsal, I read more of I Know Some Things, including Sidewalk:

excerpt from Sidewalk/ Richard Siken

It was clear that something had happened that wasn’t going to unhappen. In the emergency room, the woman at the desk kept asking me questions. All my answers were stroke, dizzy, numb. I kept saying the words in different ways so she would understand. She didn’t. She didn’t believe me. They put me in the waiting room, which I knew was wrong, and I realized that I had messed it up because I didn’t call for an ambulance. I kept falling asleep in the waiting room. I looked much worse, slack and crooked, the two sides of my face moving at different speeds. I went back to the desk and said help. They put me in a room. No one believes that I know what I know because sometimes I miss a part or tell it sideways.

Tell it sideways. I love this idea of telling something sideways — and, as someone who does/tells things sideways a lot, I get how it can alienate you from others.

What does it mean to tell something sideways? Of course I’m thinking immediately of Emily Dickinson and tell all the truth but tell it slant, but I’m also thinking about a book I used to teach when I taught queer theory — The Queer Child, or Growing Up Sideways by Kathryn Bond Stockton. And I’m thinking about my peripheral vision and how see/think/imagine in its edges and not in the center.

swim: 1.25 miles
88 laps
ywca pool

It is always a wonderful day when I can swim! I felt strong and relaxed. The pool was not crowded. Everyone got their own lane — all 4 of us. There was a lifeguard on duty, which is rare. I overheard her saying to someone in the hot tub: I love going in the hot tub after a long day of giving swimming lessons! My pool friends today were the shadows. The shadow of the lane line. I liked watching what happened as the pool got deeper: at first it was straight and parallel, but soon it angled. Lots of angled shadows on the pool wall. The floor was shimmying from shadows. The blue-tiled t on the wall at the end of the lane letting you know there’s a wall, looked distorted to me. Almost like the lines at the center of an Amsler grid when I look at it.

locker room encounter

Two older women talking near my locker. Or, one woman talking at the other, speculating on the state of things, talking about bifurcated society and the haves hoarding it over the have-nots and then believing that if it compresses enough, people will fight back. The other woman, not buying it. As she left, the first woman called out, I’ll see you up there. We can sweat it out! After she left, the second woman mumbled, YOU can sweat. When I laughed she explained that she didn’t sweat easily and it was hard for her and she feels uncomfortable when she can’t and she wishes she could just sweat.

My reaction: At first — come on ladies, this is the locker room. We come here to escape and have fun and to not think about the state of things. Then, when I heard that they hadn’t worked out yet, I got it. Oh, you just haven’t worked out yet! Also: I wondered if the second woman (the woman who couldn’t sweat) enjoyed working out with the first woman (who used bifurcated and talked at her and told her they would sweat),

dec 2/RUN

4.5 miles
minnehaha falls and back
16 degrees
75% snow-covered

Running in the snow! I love it, especially with my new Yaktrax. Bought 2 pairs at Costco yesterday. The technology of them has improved since I bought my last pair a few years ago. My old pair has coils, almost like the spiral in a spiral notebook — and unfortunately like the spiral in a spiral notebook, they can get twisted and uncoil and poke you with their sharp ends. The new version has plastic knobs with metal, so no un-spiraling. Future Sara can discover the limits of this technology after we’ve run a hundred or so miles in them.

The river was completely covered with snow and ice. Closer to the falls, it was all white, closer to home, it was more gray. The falls and the creek were still flowing.

I wore more winter layers than I probably needed. I had on my below 0 layers: 2 pairs of black running tights, 2 long-sleeved shirts — one black, one green, a purple jacket, a gray buff, a black fleece-lined cap with ear flaps, 2 pairs of gloves — black, pink and white striped, hand warmers — they’re called “Little Hotties”. I probably wouldn’t have worn the hand warmers if FWA hadn’t opened a pair for his Delia walk, but it was nice to have them.

The view of the river, the gorge, the bare trees, the other side was beautiful. The air was a satisfying and sharp cold. Even better than that though were the birds. My favorite part of the run. Tiny birds, black blurs springing up from below as I stood above the waterfall and the creek below. Movement everywhere, flitting up and down and over and out. One time, a leaf imitating a bird. Running on the path, something landed just in front of me. I thought it was a bird, but it was a dead leaf that had been lifted then dropped by the wind. Another time, a tiny bird trying to outrun me on the ground, then leap-flying, then giving up and flying away.

Standing behind the Rachel Dow Memorial Bench, I witnessed another bird land on a tree branch. I only saw it by its movement, and then when it stopped, I believed it was still there. I think I could still see it there for a moment, but I’m not sure.

echolocation, again

One more manuscript to submit — the big one — by the end of this month. Trying to add a little bit more that’s explicitly about echolocation to reinforce it as the thread that stitches it all together. Decided to look up echolocation in the OED (online through my local library, which is awesome):

1944– The location of objects by means of the echo reflected from them by a sound-signal

Coined in an article from 1944 for Science, “Echolocation by Blind Men, Bats, and Radar” by Donald R. Griffin. Was able to get a pdf of it, thanks to RJP’s access to it through school. Maybe I’ll take a phrase from it, or I’ll make an erasure out of it, or? A few minutes later: I read it; it’s short, so I’m not sure about using it. I’ll read it again while I wait for Scott to be done with jazz band rehearsal tonight.

I’m also thinking of offering definitions at the beginning of echolocation, or maybe offering them at the end. Echolocation: locating objects by their echoes / echo location: locations where echoes dwell / echolocate: the act of using echoes / echolocated: the object/subject/something that has been located by echoes

dec 1/RUN

3 miles
ywca track

The first run at the track in over 2 years. I looked it up and the last run at this track was 4 dec 2023. Not much has changed, which was good. It felt like time traveling. Lots of memories at the y with kids on swim team and inside winter running. I wore my bright yellow shoes, and between them and the bouncy track surface, I felt like I was flying. Fun! and also strange and awkward at first. Running at this track — 6 laps is a mile — is easier than the treadmill, but it’s still hard to run for a long time. I ran without stopping for 20 minutes, then walked a lap, then ran a lap, walked a lap, ran 2.

Aside from the dry and warm and not slippery conditions, one of the best things about running on the track is the chance to encounter the same people over and over, loop after loop.

10 People

  1. the fast runner in blue shorts — a great runner, graceful, making it look effortless — he passed me at least 3 or 4 times
  2. a short-ish woman in black pants and a white jacket walking slowly (and obliviously) in the middle lane, often veering slightly to the outside running lane
  3. 2 tall guys, one in a red shirt, walking and chatting
  4. later, one of the guys, starting to run
  5. an older woman, tall, in black pants, with short hair, her head cocked slightly to the right as she walked
  6. a woman in bright yellow shorts, running, her gait was strange: bouncy, but striking on the wrong part of her foot — too much vertical movement?
  7. 2 people chatting near the window — one of them complaining about how, because of insurance and property tax increases, her mortgage was jumping from $800 a month to $1300
  8. a guy in the far right corner, punching a bag in a steady and strong rhythm
  9. a woman walking with purpose, her locker key jangling in her pocket with each step
  10. someone entering the track and stopping in the middle of the lane to adjust their shoe — they saw me in plenty of time and moved out of the way — thanks!

Earlier today, or yesterday?, I came up with a ywca goal for December: swim a 5k. Now I’m thinking that I should have a running/track goal too. Run a 10k? Run an all out mile? I’ll think about it some more.

locker room encounter

Sandwiched between 2 other people changing, it was awkward. I overheard one say to the other, do you smell hot chocolate? I didn’t, and then suddenly I did. It smelled good. Without thinking, which is something I do more often because of my vision, I blurted out, excuse me, did one of you just say it smells like hot chocolate? One of them said, it’s my cocoa butter. I responded, it smells so good!

nov 29/RUN

3.3 miles
trestle turn around
26 degrees / snow
100% snow-covered

Wasn’t planning to run outside today, while it snowed, but something changed my mind — was it seeing people walking out my front window? Was it remembering that I have yaktrax? Was it not wanting to run on the treadmill? I’m not quite sure, but suddenly I found myself getting ready to go out, then leaving the house, then running through a winter wonderland. It wasn’t too cold, or too windy, and with the yaktrax, it wasn’t too slippery. There were times when I was cold or when my feet were a little sore from running with the yaktrax, but mostly I enjoyed being out there in the snow. Snow! Covering every inch of the ground, on the bluff, in the sky. The river was pewter and still open, but for how long? Some dog was losing it down below — maybe they were at the white sands beach, or on the part of the Winchell Trail that descends south from the trestle. So much barking. I’d like to imagine there barks were from the joy and the delight or frolicking through the snow.

Anything else? Some other walkers, at least 2 or 3 other runners, 3 fat tire bikers. Climbing up from under the lake street bridge, I listened to dead leaves on a tree shaking in the wind, sounding like gushing water. I heard more trees later closer to the old stone steps. I stopped at the sliding bench and noticed someone walking on the trail that winds beside the white sands beach.

earlier in the day

It is snowing again this morning. Barely more than flurries, but adding to the thin layer already started a few days ago. Encountered this poem on Instagram this morning, and wanted to remember it. It’s from one of my favorite poets/writers, Wendell Berry:

LIKE SNOW/ Wendell Berry

Suppose we did our work
like the snow, quietly, quietly, 
leaving nothing out.

Something else I encountered this morning that I’d like to remember:

Originally found here: Exploring Dakota Lands and Waters

later, after the run

It may have started as flurries this morning, but it’s bigger flakes now, and they’re piling up. 2 or 3 inches. I shoveled right after I finished running and now, 30 minutes later, the deck is covered again. I wonder how much will we get when it stops snowing?

update, Monday (1 dec 2025): It snowed all night. Apparently we got almost 4 inches, although it seems like more to me.

nov 28/HIKERUN

hike: 40 minutes
Minnehaha Dog Park
21 degrees

Since July or August, FWA and I have been taking Delia-the-dog to the dog park every Friday morning. We’ve only missed one Friday, when we were in Chicago. We took her a few days later, instead. I wasn’t sure if we’d go this morning because it was much colder, but we did. Wow! What a great walk! The dog park is like a winter wonderland. The trail was hard dirt, but no snow, and there was barely any wind. Lots of sun, calm, quiet air, and a river, still and sparkling. I was bundled up in long underwear and my new winter hat and gloves. Had a great talk with FWA about a new project he’s working on.

There was a moment — hard dirt path, bright sun, snow, tree trunks all around of various thicknesses, birds or Bird chirping above, crisp cold air, listening to FWA talk about something he was passionate about, being outside and moving through beautiful land. I told FWA that this moment was making my top ten images of Winter.

run: 4.25 miles
locks and dam / wabun / ford bridge and back
22 degrees
10% snow and ice-covered

With the warm sun, low wind, crisp refreshing air, and the clear path, I knew I needed to go out for a run. I was planning to run to the bottom of the locks and dam no. 1 to admire the river, then walk up the hill and run back, but I got to the bottom and someone was doing a video — they had their camera on a tripod and were standing with their back to the bridge, talking to the camera in Russian — I think it was Russian. I didn’t really stop, just turned around. I decided to run up the Wabun hill and over the ford bridge on the south side, then back on the north side.

Beautiful and wonderful and moments that were effortless, others that were difficult. A small mental victory: I wanted to stop and walk again, but I saw the bright yellow crosswalk sign at 38th street far in the distance. I told myself that I could keep running until I got to it if I just put one foot in front of the other and did it. I did!

10 Things

  1. the river surface was scaled and gun metal gray except for where it was burning silver
  2. a man with a dog, walking fast — I ran to the far side of the path to avoid them. even so, the dog lunged as I ran past and almost reached me
  3. cars driving fast! over the bridge — zoom zoom
  4. stopping at the bench above the edge of the world to admire the view — the bluff wall on the other shore was speckled white
  5. the grass near the bench was covered with crunchy snow — I listened to the 2 distinct sounds, crunch creak, as I slowly walked over it
  6. running on a bare sidewalk under the ford bridge on the st. paul side, hearing a slight echo from my footsteps and the rumble or whoosh? of car passing me
  7. the cold air rushing through my teal hat and making tassels hanging from the ear flaps bob
  8. the wabun hill was covered in leaves and a little slippery
  9. on parts of the path covered with snow, faint traces of reddish-brown dirt that someone from minneapolis parks had spread earlier
  10. the quick, graceful lift — up down up down up down — of a taller, faster runner behind then ahead of me then gone

nov 27/RUN

4.5 miles
john stevens’ house and back
27 degrees
wind: 18 mph
25% ice covered path

Too cold and icy for Scott, so no Thanksgiving run together. It’s too bad we couldn’t do it, but he made the right choice. Too much wind, too much ice, too many other people running and walking. He would have been miserable. I didn’t love all the run — it was hard to run into that wind! — but I loved a lot of it. It wasn’t too cold or windy or icy for me. Winter running is back!

10 Things

  1. clip clop clip clop a runner approaching from behind, wearing ice spikes and running on bare pavement
  2. 2 runners descending on the part of the path below the road south of the double bridge, one of them in a bright orange jacket
  3. minnehaha falls was rushing and (almost) roaring — I stopped at my favorite spot to watch it fall fast, and in sheets, over the ledge
  4. sometimes a little cloudy, sometimes bright sun
  5. the train bells at 50th street station were chiming frantically
  6. a group of people paying for parking at the falls — I wish I could remember what woman said . . .
  7. kids voices over at longfellow house — were they sledding down the hill like RJP did, when she was a kid?
  8. the view above the edge of the world was open and wintery and calming — I kept my distance from the bench because there was a big branch that looked like it might fall in the strong wind
  9. a human, in dark clothing, and a dog, standing at the Rachel Dow Memorial Bench
  10. the 38th street steps are blocked off for the season — today they were thick with ice

update, the next day: I forgot about the silver surface of the river! Runnng south, it burned in the distance as bright sun hit rough water. Wow!

Happy to have a relaxed, drama-free Thanksgiving. The kids are doing much better, and are getting along. RJP made the stuffing this year; FWA, mac-n-cheese. I made 2 pies: apple and maple cream. And, for the first time, I made my own pie crust! I’m proud of myself for saying I was going to do it, then actually doing it. Now we just have to see how it tastes.

Friday morning (the next day): The pies were excellent! Both of them, thanks to Smitten Kitchen: Maple Cream Pie and Even More Perfect Apple Pie. Scott said the maple cream one reminded him of pumpkin pie but better. I was delighted by how the 1/4 teaspoon of ground ginger brightened the apple pie. When I took my first bite I said, it’s so bright! that ginger really brightens it up!, which FWA found hilarious.

Found this poem today. What does the Mississippi River Gorge smell like?

Yaquina River/ Lana Hechtman


The river smells like the absence of sea,
like sky that has lost its confidence,

current wafting down the centuries from 
natives who lived and died on these shores,

the breaths of children’s laughter, their songs
ripple the slow water that goes

only at the pace it is determined to go.
The river smells like bufflehead feet and goose

feathers, salmon scales and brown silt,
fallen cedar boughs, dropped fir cones,

like women brave enough to swim
and gritty motor boat bottoms.

Slick as oil, clear as rain.
The river smells like green and bronze,

the blue of berries and purple of night, 
smells of floods and grief, of relief 

in times of drought, of every dreamer
who ever skipped stones upon it.

The river smells of sun’s sloped shoulders
and moon’s languid kisses, 

and the riverbank smells like a place
to plant myself for all my remaining years

rich delta, aroma I have come to love
despite missing the sea.

nov 26/BIKERUN

bike: 16 minutes
run: 1.25 miles
basement

It rained, then snowed last night. Today: 2 inches of icy snow on the ground. Even so, I decided to go out for a run. I got bundled up and headed out. Almost immediately I realized it was too icy and my legs and feet tensed up. I was less worried that I would slip and fall, and more that I would run strangely and strain something. So I ran for a few blocks, then turned up a block and walked back. It was disappointing because it felt good to be outside, to breathe in the cold air. Returning, I heard a strange, almost squeaking, creaking noise. I thought it might be some branches rubbing near a fence, but when I looked at them I couldn’t see anything. A minute later, I encountered a woman with a dog. She called out, it’s the sandhills! they’re migrating! I said — oh, they’re up in the sky?! how cool! I’m assuming she meant sandhill cranes — I just looked it up and yes, it was Sandhill cranes! I listened to their call and it sounded like what I was hearing earlier. Nice! I’m so glad I got outside!

Before I biked, I had to put my bike back on the stand and pump up the tires. It’s the first indoor bike of the season. I watched the rest of Lucy Charles Barclay’s race recap from the 70.3 World Champs. I’m always impressed with the mental toughness of the professional runners and triathletes.

Running on the treadmill wasn’t fun. I needed better music — and a better attitude, I guess. I’d rather be running outside or at the ywca track. I listened to a podcast, which didn’t help me forget that I was running in the dark basement on a treadmill. I’m still glad I did it and that I can burn some energy in the basement when the weather is too bad to be outside or to drive to the y.

nov 25/SWIM

1.5 loops
100 laps
ywca pool

Another great swim, another 1.5 loops to add to my tally of loops swum in 2025! The pool wasn’t too crowded. At one point, I was the only one in the water. When another swimmer arrived, she called out, we’ve got the whole pool to ourselves! I noticed the shadows on the pool floor flickering. A swimmer next to me, in a black t-shirt and green with a blue pattern, or blue with a green pattern, swam some freestyle, some breaststroke for the deeper part of the lap, then aqua jogged in the more shallow part. There was another male swimmer on the other side of him, swimming freestyle. At first I thought he was fast, and that it might be fun to race (in my head), but he turned out not to be fast enough to make it fun.

I wasn’t planning to, but I decided to do 2 sets of faster 200s: 3 x 200 on 3 min, with 30 sec rest. By decide I mean, the idea of swimming a faster 200 with the clock popped into my head early in my swim, so I did it. As I swam I thought, I should turn this into a set of 3. Then, in the last of the 3 I thought, I should do an easier 800 then do the set again. There was never really a plan, and even though I did choose to do it, I didn’t really; it just happened. As I swam, I thought about how it might help me mentally — specifically for endurance, but also for overall well-being — to add some harder swimming sets this winter instead of only moderate and steady lap after lap.

Anything else about the swim: as always, I saw orange everywhere. No fuzzy friends, I recall staring down at the drain and recalling how past Saras would imagine, only in a fearful flash, that Jaws would pop out of it. I lost track of my laps during a 200 and thought about how ridiculous it is that I can get off track just counting 8 laps — my miscounting today was not my first rodeo (the first time I remember hearing this delightful phrase was when my PT was letting me know that my kneecap had probably suffered a subluxation many times).

a draft almost done

The goal: be finished with this manuscript before the end of 2025. A thought this morning as I read through it and reflect on echolocation: it’s all about locating and being located in this place, in time and space. That locating involves:

  1. being the someone that makes sounds that will bounce off something else to create an echo, and the someone that listens for echoes made by others to locate something
  2. being the something that is located/placed/found
  3. being the echo that is created by one subject’s sound being received by another subject

Always, three. Immediately, I ‘m thinking about my poem, “An Exchange on the Winchell Trail” which involves a walker, a runner, and the You (in thank you/you’re welcome) that passes between them. And then I’m thinking about a line in my poem, “Everything”:

trinity: a baby owl in the hollow of a tree, the woman who points it out, the girl who stops to look

other threes: rock, river, air / girl, ghost, gorge / triple chants — 3 beats / grandfather, mother, daughter

Another think I’m working through: the little poems in which I take the words of another — mostly poets — and fit them into the form of my breathing pattern: 1 2 3 breathe / 1 2 breathe. The original name: form fitters. Can I think of a better one? Breaths? Breathing (with?) [author’s name]?

during the swim

Every so often, as I swam, I thought about naming my form fitters, “breathing with . . .”. I wondered if I should use only the poet’s first name, as a way to indicate more familiarity. Later after the swim, I mentioned it to RJP, and she thought “Breathing with Emily” sounded a little cheesy. I guess I agree and am thinking that “Breathing with Emily Dickinson” sounds better. Does it?

nov 24/RUN

7.5 miles
lake nokomis and back
47 degrees

A big goal of 2025 achieved: I ran over to the lake and back! I think this is the first time I’ve done that this year (I’ll have to check later). Since I accomplished that goal a month early, maybe I can add another goal for December: run to the lake and back without stopping. Today I stopped to walk, but only after I had run 3.3 miles. Stopping was mostly a mental issue, although I also started speeding up too much a few times, which elevated my heart rate and made it harder to keep going.

Another beautiful day — at least to me. It was gray and brown and dull yellow. Humid. The moisture made the air cooler when I stopped to walk.

10 Things

  1. a roller skier, graceful and smooth in their motions and the rhythm between their legs and arms
  2. the path under the ford bridge was closed: tree work
  3. running on the grass through large piles of leaves
  4. the creek was very low
  5. only one spot on the creek was babbling as water rushed over the rocks
  6. 2 people walking and talking on the pedestrian bridge, reviewing/planning their Thanksgiving menu
  7. the dock is disconnected, part of it in the middle of the lake, the other in the grass between the path and the water
  8. geese in the swimming area, one of them flapping its wings furiously
  9. the thwack of a ball on the pickleball court (someone is always playing! do they play in the winter?)
  10. the very strong, unpleasant smell of weed near the 44th street parking lot

before the run

Discovered this delightful line in poets.org’s poems of the day, Egg Tooth/ Benjamin Garcia

Ears are the eyes on the sides of your head. 

Ears are the eyes on the side of your head makes me think of what I read last night about echolocation from Daniel Kish (Batman) who sees through sonar.

Activating the Visual Cortex to rewire the brain

Our collaborative projects with research centers in the U.S. and around the world have led to the discovery that the echoes from FlashSonar clicks reflect off surrounding objects, sending auditory signals that activate, and are processed by the brain’s Visual Cortex.

Visioneers

Auditory signals that activate the visual cortex? Very cool. A decade ago, before my vision declined dramatically and before I knew much about vision, I would have found this statement impossibly strange, but now I know better. The brain is amazing and adaptable and its ability to compensate for faulty eyes is not surprising at all.

oops — for the second time in less than a week, I didn’t see my water glass on a table and put something down too close to it and tipped it over. Last week, water spilled all over a New Yorkers. This morning: my laptop. Boo! No more clear water glasses. Time to rely exclusively on my bright blue hydroflask.

during the run

I thought about seeing with my ears and echolocation and listening to the sharp sounds my feet made as I ran. Closed my eyes a few times while I was running to see how it felt and what I could notice. Wow — I need to work on my balance when my eyes are closed!

writing update

I have (almost) finished my manuscript, Echo // location (formerly known as girl ghost gorge and haunts before that). Also put together a chapbook out of the rock poems in it that I’m calling, Riprap which I’ll submit this week.

nov 23/RUN

3.1 miles
bottom of locks and dam hill
49 degrees

Oh, the sun! Warm enough for me to take my sweatshirt off halfway through the run. Beautiful by the gorge with the bare branches and open view. A few of the trees looked silvery. Was it because the sun was hitting the smallest branches, or a few tiny leaves? There were a lot of lone roller skiers out on the trail. One of them looked awkward, as if they were testing out their skis for the first time in years, or ever. Some bikers, walkers, other runners. An adult and 2 kids howling under the ford bridge. Why?

My favorite part of the run: the surface of the river at the bottom of the hill. A clear reflection of the bridge arches in the water, but the water wasn’t smooth. It looked like an impressionist painting or brush strokes or something else related to a painting. I wondered why, then I realized: the clouds! A sky filled with feathery clouds reflected on the water!

Heading back up the hill I heard the 2 kids and the adult again. This time they were quietly talking up in the bridge arches. I ran for another mile, stopping when I reached a 5k. I walked the rest of the way, admiring the shadows and the tiny buds (is that what they are?)