Crunchy-cruncha
It’s a foot fall symphony. mid-December in Edmonton, Alberta is usually the time when citizens of the city get divided into two factions; the first are huddled in a corner, hibernating until the snow is gone and temperatures are no longer considered a “health risk”, and the second group are the crazy folk out at 6.00 am in running in tights, rosy cheeked and oblivious to the fact that flesh will freeze within 4 minutes if exposed to the wind. So, armed with a pair of windproof briefs (to protect my… toes) I’ve taken to the enormous playground that is my hometown in the wintertime. And it’s worth it. From the feet up winter is a special time of frozen breath and icy eyebrows, but it’s at the point of contact with the earth that the magic really happens. Crunch, snap, swish, mash, stamp- the snow taps out a different tune every hour of everyday! You can walk the same route everyday for 6 months in my town, and hear a different song rapped out by your feet on the frozen ground. Some days, my training involves a 10km run in our river valley; 10km of cushiony bliss thanks to the shock absorbing Styrofoam-like snow of a packed down trail. Other days, I’m out on my skis and swishing through downy powder snow that’s so light it will fly up in swirls around where my tracks disturb it’s peaceful resting place. But the absolute best is the half-way-up-the-shin crunch of tramping through a pristine and untouched field of week old snow, breaking the crust and penetrating to the softer layers beneath. Don’t bother saving me a place on the couch- I’d rather be out playing a tune on the snow!
