I don't know a single runner in Highlands who is not looking forward to Spring by now. We all have had our winter gear out for months, and it has gotten much use. Mine is all stacked neatly in a cabinet over the clothes dryer, in a wide variety of fabric and thickness: rain hat, two headbands (one fleece, one moisture-wicking), stocking cap, ski mask (which I have not had to use this year), two different kinds of gloves, a pair of fleece mittens, three or four long-sleeve shirts in graduating thicknesses, and my trusty CW-X tights.
In February it's Almost Spring, and any kind of weather condition is possible, sometimes on the same day, or even on the same run. One day feels like summer; the next reminds you that winter's sharp bite is still there. Climb that little hill over by Satulah Ridge Road, out of the sun, and the temperature drops 20 degrees; turn into that sunny stretch by the school gymnasium and you roll up your sleeves. Martha and I just walked down the road and all of the contrasts of the season were there to see: snow still lying on one side of the road and a long icicle dangling from a broken branch, green grass beginning to come up on the other. At Gladys Nix's house, there are daffodils blooming in profusion to the left of her front steps, but nary a one to the right.
I love this season of contrasts as we approach the vernal equinox, leaning from side to side into sunlight and darkness, warmth and cold, summer on the left and winter on the right. We're on the verge of a new season, and soon I can put away the winter gear for awhile.
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