Country Hills
Today marked only the second time in this training cycle that I’ve had to run outside of my usual environment.
Spring Break brought me to northern Michigan, where instead of the thaw I was hoping for, I woke up to several inches of fresh snow. The town we stayed in—blanketed in white and cradled by hills—offered up an entirely different kind of running experience.
So this morning, I found myself on a dark, hilly, snow-covered road, winding through unfamiliar country terrain. It wasn’t my first choice of running conditions, but without a pace goal in mind for this easy effort run, I didn't mind. In fact, I embraced the adventure.
The road ahead was quiet, lined with thick woods and low-hanging branches kissed with snow. The only light came from a distant, glowing red dot—possibly a taillight or a crossing signal—that blinked faintly at the horizon. It was eerily beautiful, a moment suspended in cold, still air.
As I ran, I couldn’t help but think how different my training cycle would have been if I lived in this place. I suspect I would’ve grown more familiar with the treadmill—or at least learned to love it a little more. A different set of muscle groups would be put to work. On hot days, there’d be no shade. On windy days, no protection from the elements.
But today, none of that mattered. The snow muted the world, and each step forward felt like a quiet exploration into something new.
Sometimes, running isn’t about the pace, the data, or the plan. Sometimes it’s just about going—into the unfamiliar, into the cold, into the quiet—and finding yourself surprised by what you’re willing to embrace.
