Mother Nature's Poor Sense of Timing

Lately, it seems that every time my brother selects a day for one of our track workouts, the clouds roll in, the temperature drops, and a big pile of snow dumps all over our plans. We were planning to run some sprints this afternoon, so sure enough, there's white stuff all over the place this morning.

[Side thought -- why does the thought of riding in a sleigh seem so romantic, but driving a car under the exact same conditions makes you grind your teeth and curse the cruelty of the earth and its unforgiving seasons? A pox upon thee, o foul axial tilt!]

Regardless of precipitation, though, I'm not going to meet my weight-loss goals if I don't do some kind of exercise tonight. If track practice is cancelled, I suppose I can ride my bike on the trainer again. But Pat is not afraid of challenges, so perhaps he'll applaud the idea of hitting the track, snowbound though it may be. If the sky has cleared up by then, I think that would be my preference.

He's got spikes, though, and my running shoes are not especially traction-oriented. I could be slipping around on the ice, like Socrates and Ghengis Khan on the San Dimas mall hockey rink. But it might be worth giving it a shot. Perhaps it'll give me something to write about tomorrow.

If you don't hear from me, though, send out the St. Bernards. And have a great day!