Distance athletes thrive on monotony, struck by the subtle details that differentiate one run, one mile, one season from the next: how tired or fresh the body is, how a regular tree has turned in a so slightly new light, what color the river has churned that day, or how many cars ignore the crosswalk and fail to see the runner who is shorter than their SUV’s hood.
We watch the differences that are felt and seen. Until it snows, the thud of feet on pavement and hard ground drums, and bike tires hum or crunch, unnoticed.
With snow, the less-sound suddenly is evident, and becomes the next newness to explore.
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