California is having a cold spell right now.
Where normally, temps will bottom out in the mid- to upper-thirties at night this time of year, we've been dipping below freezing at night for over a week now. I don't mind so much, except that it does make my morning run a wee bit harder.
I can hear the runners in colder climates laughing at me, but let's face it: I am a true California Girl, and one who does not live in the snowy parts of the state. Forty degrees (Fahrenheit) is cold to me. The 28 degree reading that Google Weather was showing me this morning is almost unbearable.
But the run must go on, so this morning I laced up my Mizunos, threw a hoodie on over my long-sleeve shirt, and added my fingerless gloves (with little pull-over flaps that turn them in to mittens) to the mix. I stepped out of our warm house into the frigid air and started running.
Overall, the run wasn't as great as I'd hoped for--severe cramps in my lower ribs shortened it to a mile-and-a-half instead of the two-plus miles I hoped to get; but there was one moment that made me glad I went out on this cold, cold morning. As I turned onto a pathway that offers a view over the Sacramento Valley, I discovered that though the temps are below freezing, the sky was as clear as could be this morning. The Coastal Range mountains--at least 75 miles from here--were visible in high detail. I could see the show on the highest peaks, the brown color of the mountains themselves. The outline of Sacramento's modest skyline and beyond it, my old nemesis, Mt. Diablo. To the north, the Sutter Buttes, in all their glory.
The view was stunning, and I'm glad I got to enjoy it. Before too long, things will heat up and the summer smog will return. I suppose I can handle the cold weather from time to time.