I woke up to snow flurries. Yes, it’s March in New England, so that, in and of itself, it not remarkable. Yet, I remark on it because, for once, I timed the weather well this weekend.
You see, dear Readers, many of my winter weekends this season were spent like this:
Saturday – “It’s cold and I stayed up too late last night. I’ll run tomorrow because if I run today it’ll be a miserable go of it.”
Then, Sunday – “WTF! Since when were they predicting a blizzard of sleet and snow and gusty winds all day?”
This Saturday, it was 45 degrees by mid-morning, and while I did stay up too late Friday night, I simply couldn’t pass up the opportunity to run without my nose freezing and my lips chapping. Woohoo!
Anyway, it was a bit blustery, and I stepped in an icy puddle, but it was still a fabulous run, and not just because it was the first time I’ve run outdoors in probably a month. Ah, sweet endorphins!
I’ve written about it before, my connection between running and writing. Both are cathartic in their own ways, and it seems when one is going well, so is the other. As I ran along the shoulder of a fairly busy road yesterday, I mostly kept my mind focused on stride, cadence, and passing vehicles. However, a small portion of my thoughts played with my next manuscript. Yes, it's official. I'm working on a friends to lovers themed story.
If that 5k run is any indication -- as runs are prone to be -- I have a strong feeling this may be more of a friends to enemies to lovers storyline, but only time - and miles - will tell.