Fall behind

Spring ahead, fall behind!  Reader, did you turn your clocks back?  Are you up early, too?

I woke up and suddenly felt strongly that because I would certainly experience the downside of "fall behind" later today when the sun sets an hour early, I should take full advantage of the extra hour of morning light.  I jumped out of bed and was tying my running shoes by 7:10 - although to be fair, it felt like 8:10, which is nothing to crow about.  But the light at 7:10 was much prettier than it has been...and by that I mean it wasn't dark.

 
I had an extra spring in my step because it was so much lighter and because today is the New York City Marathon, a race I am determined to run someday.  It has an even bigger field than the Chicago Marathon (more than 46,000) and travels through all five of the city's boroughs and just seems like an all-around magnificent experience.  I wanted to run to celebrate all of the people making their way to the marathon's start line. 

It ended up feeling fitting in a funny way because, save for a huge and constant wind, it was practically silent outside.  I saw one or two other runners and only a few people walking their dogs.  It's quite the contrast to what I imagine is going on right now near the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge at the start of the marathon in New York.

I puttered around for seven miles, my longest run since Chicago a month ago this weekend.  The weather was strange: 47 at the start, which is warm for a November morning in Minnesota, but with the previously mentioned gusty, gusty winds.  It felt more like April than November.  I didn't need the jacket I brought but would've liked a pair of gloves!

I saw a lot of sidewalk poetry today, a relatively new project in St. Paul.  It's an annual poetry contest, and a few winners are chosen each year to have their poems imprinted on new sections of sidewalk that get repaired around the city. 

Here is my favorite:

I might have rolled my eyes at this poem if I had run by it on, say, a Tuesday afternoon, feeling tired with a million things still on my mind.  (Honestly?  I would probably still love it then, too.  It's some of my favorite things, crammed into four lines.)  On a cool and peaceful Sunday morning, though, it seemed especially right.