TRACK

Yesterday, the weather was magnificent. Temperatures rose to the mid-60s, for the first time in what seemed like years. (Actually, it was probably late October)

Snow mountains shrunk significantly. Potholes appeared everywhere, turning streets into downtown Baghdad, and the runoff from the melting snow seemed to smell good.

Forget about robins and crocuses, as I drove to work this morning I saw the real harbinger of spring: a naked, dry, beautiful terracotta-colored high school track.

The vision of the giant, white numerals, the symmetrical lines, hurdles stacked neatly along the infield, and the peaceful, early morning solitude of a place that, by 3:00 p.m. will be brimming with activity, the three-ring circus of sprinters, long distance runners, jumpers and throwers, was a sight for eyes that have grown weary of dirty snow, lifeless trees, and salt-stained roads.

Life has returned.

Track season is here.

A celebration of runners and running.

All is right with the world.