The times they are a-changing. Literally, with daylight savings time, but also figuratively with the changing seasons. In the last few weeks the tundra has gone from burnt orange to bluish white.
As the snow sets in and the light begins to wane, I’m always left scrambling to reset my schedule.
No longer can I work until as late as I want and still be sure that there will be enough daylight left for an evening run. And even if I plan out my day to fit in that run, I can’t even be sure that the conditions will be safe enough.
While the evening temperatures drop below freezing, the daytime temps sometimes rise above that, melting and then refreezing the roads.
On a recent stormy afternoon I laced up my grippy sneaks and zipped up my waterproof jacket, only to be left slipping and sliding around the streets of Nome. I made it down to the beach to watch the waves crash into the still unfrozen shoreline. While my cheeks were freezing, the view and entire experience was truly sublime.
I snuck in another outside run the other evening. The roads had been plowed and properly pebbled following a recent snowfall, allowing me to make my way to my trusty trail behind that runs up behind the hospital. I was elated to break that trail through the snow and made it back just in time to watch the sunset from above the city.
But, as I write this, I’m gazing out onto quickly darkening sky with the knowledge that my evening runs will now probably all take place indoors, something that at least my cheeks will appreciate.
