It was eighteen degrees, and I was all alone,

in one of my favorite places on earth, my best friend's Vermont house. My family and all of our friends were on the slopes already, and my two non-skiing friends were out for a ladies lunch, sans me. I tied my running shoes, velcroed my ipod armband to my Nike Coldgear jacket and hit the garage door code to shut the door behind me. The air in Manchester, Vermont isn't like Jersey. It's icy, and crisp, and clean without a hint of humidity.

The wind was docile, when I left so the eighteen degrees felt significantly warmer. Rhianna's Shut Up and Drive geared up on my iPod and I began the first leg of my run, the .83 mile run to the end of the private drive...to the road with the big red barn with the wooden peace sign adorning its side. I ran by the creek, beside it and over it. I made a left turn on the rural route 30, which overlooks the creek on the left, and beautiful mountains above that. My nose was running, and I was glad to be wearing the three layers of Nike Coldgear running clothes. I was suddenly warmed from the inside out, listening to Paul Westerberg on my ipod. I was alone, and doing what I loved, in a place I love, which just one year prior, never thought even remotely possible. I made a left turn on Mt. Aeolus Lane, a dirt road with a decomposing abandoned barn on my left. I remembered taking photographs of the kids there, six years before. Then, the roof was piqued, but still intact, and certainly not lying in a heap on top of the barn's front door.

For anyone who would have seen me, I was a normal avid runner (perhaps too avid), in the chilly temperatures, putting in a few miles. To me, I was gripped by the enormity of being able to enjoy something I haven't been able to enjoy for over three years since my hip injury and subsequent botched surgery. I felt as though I was barely touching the icy gravel on Mt. Aeolus Lane, smile on my frozen face. I passed a few horses before turning on the almost mile-long private road leading to the house. I focused on every step, another Westerberg song on, taking in the feeling of being a whole person again, alive. I never thought I would run again. I thought psoas tendonitis would render me completely disabled from an exercise point of view, but thanks to Kasey, the miracle physical therapist, I am once again a whole person.

As I reached the bottom of the driveway, passing their house sign, I climbed the last snow covered yards. I wiped my eyes with my jacket sleeve, and looked down to see water beaded up on the waterproof sleeve. It wasn't every day I had to use my jacket to wipe away tears...I wondered if they were tears of joy, or simply tears from the frosty wind in my eyes. It didn't really matter, I guess.

Comments

[boop]

loved the piece on running in vermont!

beautifully written!

[Teencie]

Beautiful-- sometimes people don't realize how much something like an injury profoundly changes who you are-- and more importantly how YOU feel you are... I'm so glad to read that the sunshine has finally made it's way back to you my friend! Xoxoxo

[Scott]

Very inspirational and heart felt!