February 17, 2014

February 17, On Which it Does Not Feel Like Winter

There are, perhaps, greater pleasures than a midday walk, with a pause to enjoy well done espresso. But when the temperature - for the first time in what must surely be decades, by my sense - creeps above 50, the brick sidewalks clear of snow, grass sprouts in the cracks, and you can read the faded "Lawrence, KS" etched on them, I am unable to think of any.

Save, perhaps, opening up the legs a little further, lengthening the stride from a walking gait to that bipedal churning characteristic of running, adding to the kiss of hinted spring the bliss of 150 heartbeats per minute, and the accompanying ambrosia drip of blissful endorphins.

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