Tuesday, November 13, 2012


This morning I woke up. Late, much later than planned (much to the dismay of my dear roommate, who endured the multiple alarms going off that I, in my sleepy state of delirium, continued to reset), but it did happen. As I woke myself up with a spontaneous solo dance party to one song on repeat, I found the warmest of my running attire somewhere in the depths of my tiny college student room and pulled them on.

By the time I stepped out my door, it was 8 o'clock and the most glorious kind of lovely. The air was crisp. The sun just peering between the mountain peaks. Specks of gold seemed to flick from the snowy ground. And then it happened.

As I rounded the first corner, my foot landed in the few days old, overnight frozen, super loud crunchy snow. And it was like I was home.

Some mornings are just perfect. Even when you don't wake up on time.

Photo from Saturday's morning run. Close enough.

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