semi-silent running
Other than my heavy breathing and clomping feet, today’s half hour run in the river valley was hauntingly quiet. I know, I know – those are big “others”. Anyway, I’m 99.9% sure Chris will be nodding his head after he reads the rest of today’s post…
As fall and finter fade and are replaced by our 5 hours of sunlight per day winter, running in Alberta becomes a pursuit of unmatched stillness.
Ironic statement huh?
I think I’d better explain! In the fall, the birds fly away. We think they go down south to the U.S. but, frankly I’ve never followed them so that might just be a fable. Anyway, they leave for presumably warmer climates. Other animals slow down, hibernate or dissappear altogether. The only critters I see regularly in the winter are cute little bunny rabbits and they are pretty quiet little creatures. Wooded trails without birds and other creatures are quiet trails. Last but not least, a lot of people stop running in the winter and where people aren’t, quiet IS.
So, that’s why it was quiet today.
But guess what (I’m getting there Chris)? It snows here in Alberta. It snows a lot. You know what running in the snow is like? It is so very quiet. It’s like the sound of running on down-filled pillows. It’s like talking in room that’s been insulated but not dry-walled.
It’s SOOOO quiet.
Have you ever had the pleasure?
Dianna, you asked me why on earth someone would wanna come way up her in the cold cold north? This is the answer. You gotta run in a deep, fresh snowfall at least once. It is a truly miraculous experience.
I can’t wait!

Thursday November 18, 2004 @
For the first little while during the marathon, it was *so* quiet. Even with lots of people around, the snow was falling, what was underfoot was still fresh. It was soft. And I can’t *wait* for the deep snow to hit my trails.