|What winter looks like along the Turnagain Arm. Gorgeous, yes?|
Calm down. Newman is just a treadmill. And it isn't really neglect if you feed the kids eventually, right? A few mornings ago, I stumbled my way into running shorts at 6:00 to run 20 miles with Newman. The night before I gave the kids strict instructions: 1) sleep in like you've never slept in before, and 2) get your own breakfast.
And you know what? It worked. When I came upstairs a bit before 9:00, two puffy-eyed bed-headed children looked up from their cereal bowls and cartoons to say good morning. Well, it wasn't so much good morning as it was, can we watch another show before you make us do responsibilities. Translated: We wish you'd run a bit longer, Mom.
I've been doing all my best writing with Newman too. Which is unfortunate, since neither of us can take notes, and my memory is only slightly more advanced than his. (He can calculate pace and calories like a math whiz, but his creative writing skills need some work.) You'd be amazed at the deep thoughts that are dredged up during 160 minutes of running, once I get beyond the usual cursing and self-loathing.
Well, I waited.
And I still love it.
Where else can you go snow tubing at the break of dawn? Where else can you watch a bowl game before the sun comes up? (I know, I know, the break of dawn isn't until 10 o'clock, but still....).
We celebrated winter solstice by spending every second of daylight outside skiing. You can fill up on just five hours of daylight. You really can.
Last week, I referred to 20 degree temps as "warming up" and took the kids to a sledding hill with more vertical drop than our old Ohio ski slope.
|Our sledding "hill"|
Last night I cooked the salmon our neighbors gave us for Christmas (the fish they pulled straight from a net in the Kenai).
This morning I laced up my spiked trainers and ran 16 miles on a trail of packed snow.
And this afternoon was spent skating and playing pick-up hockey with friends on an outdoor ice rink at a neighborhood school.
So yes, just wait until winter. Because after just one gorgeous and snowy and cold Alaskan winter, you might never want to leave.