we don't normally hold onto the snow this long and after seven days you can imagine that this is the permanency of a last winter. over the summer we were visited by owls and coyotes, the former rising winged shadows before midnight, the latter crying into the hour before dawn. i saw paw prints in the ice, in the evergreen grove at the end of the property, overlooking the ridge that leads down to the nisqually delta.
this is now a season of mourning for us, and an anniversary of loss, made colder by the isolation of the pandemic. made more isolated by a cultural shift given to pride and grievance. and still, i am surrounded by love. it is often enough.
in review - i gave in to another year of compulsive running. in 2020, i set a goal of running one mile for each year, and owing to several years of injury, banked as much distance as possible early on, so that i coasted to 2,200 miles by the end. this year, i logged 200 miles in in january, and, out of sheer unhealthy fixation, got it into my head that i would meet that standard thereafter. the last week was a struggle, i had to drill new screws into my winter running shoes so as not to slip on the ice and snow. but today, i managed 9.78 miles to get to exactly 200 december miles. i ran 2410 total miles in 2021, roughly the flight distance from seattle to new york.
over christmas, everyone took sick, and since i run 6.6 miles every day, i was able to stop by the pharmacy and pick up home tests. my son, wife and her sister all tested positive. i have tested a few times over the months, but can't seem to come down with covid, and now feel left out. i am invincible and will live out the span of human history alone and inexperienced.
i have fewer than ten minutes to hit post on this, just as to get in one more journal entry for the year. so much and so little has happened, and i expect next year to be full of lost opportunities to save these memories for posterity.