When the young boy and I stepped out, he immediately came back in to wear gloves. So the last dregs of winter carry on, I thought. Indeed it was cold, felt colder than yesterday but quite the perfect weather to run.
One would warm up quickly in this weather – the kind of air in which one could run for miles and miles.
But ours was a short run, a casual up and down. It’s still so dark, he said as we made our way down a westerly direction. When we flipped around, I pointed the sky at that opposite end. See that.
The sky was changing to its glowering orange and later the clouds seemed ablaze with hues of indigo and purple.
It was a good way to start the running week.
Writing about Running 