Snow…in July?

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I’m a runner.

Not competitively, not anymore. I’m old, at least my knees are.

I cherish every chance I get to fit in a run. Luckily, my work allows us PT (physical training) time three times a week.

So yesterday, when I had a window of opportunity to go for a run, I took it. The fact that it was at 1:30 in the afternoon and 89 degrees out…well, no matter, I needed my “high.”

Off I went, down the sidewalk, under the trees, and into the bright, humid sun. Forty minutes later, chanting to myself, “You can do this,” I focused on every step. My water deprived body shouted, “Stop,” but walking wasn’t an option.

Two blocks away from my work and slightly delirious, out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of something white floating in the air. For a millisecond, my dehydrated brain thought, “It’s snowing!” Once I was able to think logically, I realized…it was cotton from the cottonwood trees!

I stumbled back in the building, crawl-walked up the stairs to the locker room, and sprawled out on the bench.

Why do I do this to myself? Because…I’m a runner.