I imagine that this morning was my last one to run with the temperature below freezing until next winter.
It was glorious.
Cold. Crisp. Still. Sunrise. Rhythmic steps. Inspiring iPod lyrics. Up a hill. And down. Through the neighborhood. And back. Thank you, Father, for one more glorious, cold morning.
Near perfect. World seems right. Just me & the Father talking about life. Running down the road.
I'll miss the bracing cold stepping out the door. I'll miss the steam rising from me before stepping back in.
24 degrees is gone for the season. But thank you, Father, that you are not seasonal.
You are with me no matter the weather.