Snow.
For the past eight hours, the world outside my window has looked like a deleted scene from The Grey. Didn't we do this blizzard nonsense last week? Yesterday afternoon, the streets were clear and I was looking forward to getting back outside to run when I woke up to Boston's best imitation of an arctic tundra. It is crazy. There is much snow.
I actually don't have any running stats today, because last weekend's long run got sort of disrupted by our ski trip. How was it? I'll let the baby answer:
It was great! We took the kid cross-country skiing, strapped to Dave's chest, and with the fresh powder and sunny skies, we all had a great time. Iris was the cutest little skier out there (no offense, Dave), and we could barely go more than a few feet before someone would stop us to check her out (she did look pretty cute).
Bretton Woods was beautiful and lovely and snowy and wonderful and we had a fantastic time and immediately started looking up vacation properties.
But, when we got back to Boston, we thought we had left the snow behind. So imagine our surprise at today's weather (Dave went to work in snow pants...). We just managed to pick up Abby from puppy vacation before the snow emergency, and she, at least, doesn't seem too phased by the snow:
This was after she stuck her whole face in a snowbank and inhaled like she was breathing in life itself.
Sadly, not all of us come equipped with built-in fur coats, so I'll be keeping this week's runs indoors, hopefully to a gym that doesn't charge me Iris's college fund to run in place for an hour. (does such a place exist??) Back to treadmills!
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