Glorious sunshine filled our bedroom when I opened my eyes this morning. I got up, aching for a longer run. Other than that vague plan, I didn't know where I was headed when I stepped out the door in my running shoes an hour later.
Kids were on their way to school and traffic was heavy. That pushed me towards the solitude of the lake and surrounding woods. I was also curious to see if the ice had melted there, as it has on the pavements. I left the main road and made my way there through the quiet suburbia, meeting no living soul except a wild rabbit.
The path that led to the lake looked promising. There was ice, but it was either laced with patches of exposed dirt or of the crunchy, none-slippery kind. Some part were completely ice-free. I ran further, sometimes having to leave the path and run among the trees, until I came to the beach.
This lake beach is very popular during the summer. People come here to sunbathe, have picnics and swim. Today though it was deserted. It was completely quiet but for the bird song, the wind in the trees and the distant hum of traffic. I stopped for a few minutes to let this amazing feeling sink in: This here? This is precisely why I run. It's days like these.
Sadly, the path pretty much disappeared after that. Ice was everywhere, and I had to stop and walk a grand total of 11 times during the rest of my run. About halfway in my run, I gave up and headed back towards civilisation and the ice-free pavements. Traffic was gone. The kids had started their lessons. I was alone.
After 9 km I was back home. I didn't really want to go inside on such a beautiful day. I wanted to keep running. Sometimes, though, it's a good idea to stop running while you still have the will and energy to continue; it makes the next run so much more appreciated.