I ran up to Barr again this morning. The 4000' of climbing on the way up went without undue stress, but once I got there I knew it was time to turn around and scamper back down the mountain: the air was starting to emit flakes, and the Peak had already disappeared behind a veil of swirling greyness. As a result, the run on the way down was a game of cat and mouse with the clouds catching up to me on the flatter, icier stretches above No Name and then me plummeting back down into sunshine once I hit the Ws. Great fun. I made it back to the house just as the spring snow squall took over the Westside for a few minutes. Springtime in the Rockies; can't be beat.
I realized today--after looking over my log for the past month--that I've actually not missed a day of running since Jocelyn's birthday (February 4th). I've had a weeklong stretch where I did little more than 40-60min jogs, but I still ran every day. When it comes to streaking, I tend to agree with Matt on this: streaking for streaking's sake is pretty dumb, especially when confronted with a serious overuse injury. But as a mind-game for promoting consistency, it does pretty well.
I leave you today with this epic little gem from freak-folk artist Devendra Banhart: