With the arrival of vast amounts of snow, a traffic beacon implores drivers
Drive Slow. Stay Safe.
Sub out the verb “drive” with “run” and you’ve got a signpost that is just as applicable to the treachery that is the post-storm winter run.For despite their boasts of being a pedestrian-friendly city, the city of Markham is sorely lacking in plowed sidewalks. Actually they are sadly devoid in sidewalks period in certain areas.
Taking to the roads I harbour a great appreciation for the drivers who so readily and obligingly share the roads. They realize that runners and walkers alike have no choice but to traverse their lands. Thankfully this breed of driver forms the greater majority. And I wave an appreciative salute to each. To the others who clearly have no respect for the efforts of physical fitness I offer an altogether different manner of greeting.
But the roads would only form part of today’s challenges.
At the 17 kilometre mark I’m out of gatorade. The liquid somehow seeping out of the confines of my water bottle when I stashed it inside my coat to thaw 6 kilometres into my run. It’s only evidence being the frozen fabric that clings to the left side of my torso. 4 kilometres later my watch batter expires. I can relate. My own “low battery” indicator had been flashing for about an hour at that point itself. But I push on to my appointed 25 km mark. I know the roads well. Figuring out the route needed to chart out my final steps is routine even if the effort level is not.
So why do I do this? For the same reason the vampires of The Vampire Diaries ingest verbane — the kryptonite to their superhuman strength.
To get stronger.