Feb. 24, 2010

Do you want to know how cold it was this morning? I'd be happy to tell you. I wasn't happy to run in it, but I would get some satisfaction whining about it.

There is a school bus stop on one of my routes. The kids look like they're middle school-age, or else they are just puny high school specimens without a car-like I was. Whenever they see me go by, they almost always do the "Run, Forest, run," thing. As if it had never been done before. Very predictable. This morning, though, one of the kids peeled out of the pack and fell in running with me. Like most of the other zit generators, he had no serious coat, no hat, and no gloves. I had on my usual winter running attire: balaclava, ski mittens, jacket, special-purpose protecting wind briefs, and tights.

I expected some sophomoric, or even freshmanic quip to ensue, so I was surprised when he asked, "Do you run every morning?"

"Yeah," but my lower jaw was immobilized by the zero-degree wind chill, so all that came out were the first two letters. Good thing he wasn't being a jerk; I wouldn't have been able to deliver any kind of witty response.

"That's awesome," he said, unsarcastically.

"Thnx." I was not texting him. I just could not stretch my face enough for a proper "a" to come out.

"What's the farthest you've ever run," he asked, all sounds cleanly delivered.

I wanted to say "Fourty-four," which I have run twice, as a solo finisher during the Brew-to-Brew relay between Kansas City and Lawrence. But the "o"s went out my nose and bounced off my elbows. They didn't land on his ears. All I managed was "Frt-fr."

That's how cold it was. It made vowels freeze.

Thanks for reading.