on a day like today

holly sent me an email yesterday with a link to active.com, where I could register for the 33rd annual 30 k running series here in slc.
I snickered, rolled my eyes, grimaced, groaned . . . and eventually pulled up the site to see what it was all about.
running, obviously, you're thinking.
well, yes, but just how intense would this running be? is my question, while I continue holding the position that I'm not doing this, nuh-uh.
the answer is three events, beginning late january and ending late february, commencing with a 5 k, progressing to a 10 k, and ending with a 15 k.

okay, I'd like to be able to do this.
I think.

holly holds a goal of running the boston marathon; I don't. however, you know how I feel about being able to include "runner" in my understanding of myself.
and then I have thoughts along this line: why do I need to join an organized event like this ~ why can't I just set myself the goal and do it on my own?
which I could do; so could holly.
however, there's something about having an inescapable time/date/place that you've committed to that keeps you from changing your mind/backing out/conveniently forgetting your goal. a little bit of enforced commitment-keeping.

I haven't committed yet. haven't pushed that button, am still contemplating.
the sun has broken through the clouds, breaking them apart and pushing them to the peripheral aspects of the great blue sky above me. it's bitterly cold out, but the snow sparkles mischievously and is beginning to melt in small spots atop the salt-streaked asphalt. I've watched a handful of runners stride past, white fogs of breath expelled and dispersed within nanoseconds. the day is so shiny and bright it seems to hold a promise for the future, a commitment of its own to health and prosperity, stability and certainty.
the mountains rise tall and resolute, the sun behaves as it always does, constant and faithful though we cannot always tell it is there. today it rules the sky in glory and brings hope to those of us who've been huddling under the gray cloak that has hidden the sun from us for what seems so long.

another runner comes down the street, her big black dog bounding by her side, nose quivering and flanks shining. she places her feet firmly on the road, her stride confident and her cheeks red beneath her tasselled hat. I'm certain she could run a 5 k. or a 10 k. maybe even a 15 k.

on a day like today, most anything seems possible.