En plein air

It's no secret that I'm fond of my daycare provider. She makes healthy, fresh-from-the-garden meals; she makes it a priority to teach them good manners; and Miles, at 19 months, already sings "A, B, C, D" and counts to three.

But this morning, I became her biggest fan.

She didn't bat an eyelash or give a sideways look when I dropped off Miles 20 minutes early in full winter running attire. She didn't offer any snarky remarks when I mentioned that I was going to soak up the day's rays on a quick run before work. In fact, she was probably supportive or encouraging as she always comments about how good the example is that I'm setting for Miles.

I'm not going to argue her on that one.

The air was mild (relatively speaking) at 27 degrees, the wind was non-existent and the sun was bright when I arrived at the park. I had briefly considered running downtown from work but knew the park would be clear of yesterday's snow. And even though the park is a frequent haunt, my miles in the basement made the familiar sites welcome.

I set off along the path with two goals in mind: take it easy and enjoy. I didn't want to look at my watch, fretting about pace, nor did I want to squander such a rare chance to run outdoors. Though my runs en plein air were much appreciated last week, my pace wasn't where I wanted and I realized/feared that I had squandered some fitness by spending too much time on the revolving belt.

The first mile or so was a bit lethargic and I had to force myself to look around but as I made my way toward the back end of the park, I began to settle in. My footsteps got lighter. My breathing was steady. My eyes narrowed as the brilliant light reflected off the bright white snow. I pushed my shoulders down and back.

I stopped for a moment around mile two to snap some photos but otherwise kept my feet moving, faster and faster as the miles ticked away. I finished the run just shy of five miles, happy and committed to getting outdoors more frequently. Even if it means sacrificing 20 minutes with Miles a morning or two a week.

Had it not been for one small lapse, the morning would have been an epic success. And by lapse, I mean that I forgot my shoes.

I had taken my gym bag to work, with clean, professional-ish clothes so that I could avoid stopping at home between the run and work. I had a Handful tank that served a dual purpose: bra and base layer; a racerback blouse; blue cardigan; and denim trousers. I even remembered a black belt though, sadly, the pants don't seem to require it these days. A pair of professional shoes - or even the boots that have become uniform these days - were still in my closet ... and in the living room ... and, shit, kitchen. I never, ever wear my running shoes outside of running but thankfully I have an old pair that I keep at my desk in the event I take a lunchtime walk.

I'm pretty sure the hot pink sneakers make the look.