Footprints in the Snow

Today it warmed up to a scorching 35 degrees. AND the sun came out. And you wouldn't believe the humidity! Okay, okay, no humidity. But really, it felt soooo warm. I mean, we topped Minnesota's wind-chill adjusted high by almost 60 degrees today. (Sorry to rub it in, Kelly, but you seem to be cool with being cold, so we're cool, right?)

Anyway, if ever I was going to get outside for a much needed run, today was the day. So off I went, footloose and mitten free.

Two minutes into the run I realized that I was (quite literally) treading on thin ice. In fact, if my kids had been running on the aforementioned icy street, I would have yelled at them. "Use your walking feet! It's slippery! We don't want to end up at the ER!"

So, realizing my hypocrisy, I did what any reasonable person would do. I scooted further onto the shoulder where there was snow. And kept running.

And then I stopped. Involuntarily. I was on the ground so fast that my feet kept going in mid air, kind of like the "bicycle upside down" move from my Strawberry Shortcake Exercises! record- circa the Days of Yore. (Do you remember that record, Mom? If I'm remembering the sound of those songs right, that must have been torture for you. I'm so very sorry.)

Thankfully, it wasn't the kind of fall that broke a bone and left me wishing for my "I've fallen and I can't get up" button. More like the kind of fall where I glanced around to see if anybody saw me, dusted off, and popped back up before the garbage truck could mistake me for refuse.

And in my agony embarrassment, I turned around to see
My footprints in the snow.
And I asked the Lord,
"During the most trying periods of my run,
Why were there only one set of no footprints,
but just a big divot?"
The Lord replied,
"The times when you saw only one set of no footprints,
That is when I carried you you fell on your butt like a complete idiot.

My new New Year's Resolution? Make peace with the treadmill.