Vermont has been in stretch of weather marked by gray, sunless days with middling temperatures just around freezing. The lack of light and lack snow have potent numbing affect, such that you don't realize how dismal the world seems until an errant patch of sunlight shows through a thin spot in the cloud cover to point out what you're missing.
The little snow we've had in town leaves a melting slushy mess in conditions like these, and it turns a normal run into an obstacle course. Every square of sidewalk pavement seems tilted at slightly different angle and in a slightly different direction that the adjoining slabs of concrete, making each block appear like a patchwork quilt of water, slush and clear pavement. The snow-covered grass alongside the sidewalks is turning to mud as people use that space to avoid long watery stretches of sidewalk. And it's hard to guess how deep the water is: 1/2 inch? 3 inches?
Early in the run I gingerly hopped around the puddles, ballerina-leaped over the puddles and dodged traffic in the less puddly streets in an effort to keep my running shoes dry. But a few missed steps and underestimated puddle-depths and I gave up on that charade. The water was cold splashing through the mesh of my shoes, but was nearly as bone-chilling as I expected giving the gray skies and chunks of slush floating in it. The run started to feel like a long, fun obstacle course of jumping, swerving, splashing strides around the city. Next week, I might take the run out a country road and give real mud season a try.
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