Six days of rain had finally come to an end. Soaked hillsides steamed in the morning sun; but still in shadow, tussocks of grass along the dirt road wore a thick coat of frost. Running west on the main drag in Ahmanson Ranch, we were working our way over to Cheeseboro Canyon.
Whether the conditions were imperfect or perfect was a matter of perspective. Yes, it had been a little muddy and wet, but that was part of the experience, and part of the morning.
In some places droplets of water refracted and reflected tiny spectra of color, while in others flat plates of frost glittered in the sun. Running along a rejuvenated creek, the smell of wet earth mixed with the rich organic odors of old willow leaves and other vegetation.
Away from the trailhead there was not a hiker, runner, rider or mountain biker to be seen. Remarkably, even in Cheeseboro Canyon no one was on the trail.
Sometimes I’m asked,”What are you training for?” Being able to enjoy a run like today’s is my reply.
This evening’s run was also superb. Over the course of the run, the skies had become increasingly gray and troubled, as a weak cold front approached the area. Climbing a long hill, the light was dank, and I had given up on the sun. But as I neared the crest of the hill, orange-red sunlight began to illuminate the clouds from below, highlighting a sunset shower. Large, cold rain drops began to patter around me, and I watched mesmerized, as the light, clouds, and rain played on the sky.