Thursday was a miserable day.
A steady rain poured down, accompanied by a chilly wind. Conditions were dark and damp and temperatures struggled to reach 40 degrees. Simply a terrible day to go for a run.
I couldn't wait to gear up with my waterproof vest, painter's hat and gloves.
Since tearing my meniscus in August, my training log has resembled a freshly cleaned blackboard (going back to my teaching days), a clean slate, so to speak.
Walking was a struggle throughout September, and I am ashamed to report that I ran two miles for the month. That's right: 2 miles!
I dragged my leg for a whopping 31 miles in October, then, prior to my November 10 arthroscopic surgery, I managed to struggle through 12 miles for that entire month.
Exactly four weeks after my surgery, on December 10, as instructed, I ran my first mile on the track.
So, after three months of running exile, I am elated to emerge from my personal Elba island, whenever I am able, whatever the conditions.
On Thursday, my two miles, all my sore knee will bear at this time, were delightful. The cold, dank, rainy atmosphere didn't phase me a bit.
It's all relative folks.
Take this wonderful gift of running away from us, yank it, like a throw rug, from beneath our feet, and we begin to realize how much it really means to us.
My personal best times are fading in the rear view mirror, but my, and your, best running days lie ahead.
In about an hour, I'll run on a beautiful trail, along a lazy river, with snow flurries swirling, along with a running friend of over thirty years, who suffered a stroke a mere six weeks ago.
And, in the coming weeks and months, I'll run in the mountains and I'll run on the beach. I'll run with my wife, with friends old and new, I'll run with my kids, I'll run with my dogs.
Cherish each day and every opportunity we are afforded to lace up our shoes and go for a run.
Because, indeed, our best running days lie ahead.