My mile-training day of reckoning was fast approaching, almost time to put the past several months of motivation, stamina training and speed-work to the test and to see if I had the courage to run a brave mile. I wrote my goal on my calendar in red, but as the date approached, Mother Nature intervened, dropping a thick blanket of snow over the tracks and roads of Boston. The weather turned colder, and a series of damp, blustery days seemed to seal the deal; I would have to wait for spring.
But then, unexpectedly, just as I got used to the idea of trading in my racing flats for snowshoes, the forecast became more favorable for racing, predicting several days of sun and milder air to melt the snow. As if on cue, patches of the orange oval in my neighborhood peeked out from beneath the white cover, growing bigger day by day.