Foot Prints
Written in the snow on Boxing Day.
The snow fell in angelic puffs, perfect, slow-motion flakes, like Hollywood’s best dreams. It was like running inside a snow globe. A perfect dusting rested on the trees, on the roads and on the path.
Running in the snow is cool. It’s peaceful, and calm and serene. It’s like some sort of sensory therapy. Don’t be afraid of the snow. Get out and leave your prints.
My breath came even, deep and slow in steaming billows. My feet were dimpling the thin frosting with each touchdown and push off. A slow muffled cadence in the early morning gray. I was leaving a trail of clearly defined footprints – and those foot prints told a story about me.
When you run in the snow you need to think clearly about the properties of forward motion and friction. Snow has the capability of making your feet slip and slide as they attempt to power your forward. In the cold months of a New England winter there is snow and ice of many kinds and each requires a bit of experience and a bit of technique.
No one from the club wanted to join me for a casual 16 mile morning run. It was just me and my dog drumming out a monotonous beat in the flurries. There was little evidence of any other foot traffic as I made my way out from town. The roads weren’t bad, but I made my way to the rail trail so I could let the dog off leash and we could both run easier.
With a thin coating of snow, and the weather well below freezing, like this, your biggest concern is the black ice. Hidden under a delicate dusting, the ice has zero friction. If your stride lands on it with any lateral forces or imperfections your foot will slide and you may fall down or find yourself flailing for purchase. You can’t plant your foot. You need to run lightly. Your feet need to kiss the ground with perfect forward balance.
As we turned on to the rail trail the pavement was dusted with patches of deeper stuff left over from a previous snow shower. I let Buddy go. There would be no bikes to worry about today and no pedestrians. It was a snowy Boxing Day. In my mind the perfect time to get out, but for most it was a time to curl up in front of a hearth with comfort food.
When the snow is down and the black ice is lurking it is time to practice your forefoot mechanics. Focus on landing those feet well balanced and nicely aligned with your natural body movement. If you reach out to heel strike on the black ice your will go down. If you are landing with a corrective sideways twist of thrust you will spin out. In the snow you must keep it clean and manage the forces of your footfall.
There, in the dust was another set of tracks. Someone had gone before us this morning, their tracks preserved in the thin snow. This runner I could tell was a beginner or novice at best. The stride was duck-footed with a short stride length, making a V-shaped trail. The full foot hitting the ground with a little berm of snow pushed up where the heel struck and rolled. I look ahead but don’t see them on the trail – the tracks had grown old and cold.
Sometimes you will find more traction in the deeper snow. The ice has no friction, but the deeper snow has form and purchase for your shoe treads to grab and feel. As long as it’s not too deep as to inhibit, the snow is usually less tricky than the ice, and at least you can see what you are up against.
After an hour and 20 minutes Buddy and I head back to the Town Hall to see if anyone from the club is going to show up on the snowy Sunday morning for a run. It’s now 9:00 AM and that’s the appointed meeting time for normal people, normal runners. We circle the block 3 times until it is 9:08. No one shows. We decide to head north on the rail trail to finish up the last 6 miles of our run on our own.
Some people put screws in their shoes or strap on traction devices. I have tried these, but frankly enjoy more the purity of feeling my way along un-assisted in the snowing mornings. Listening to the feedback of my body. Holding my balanced form to dance across the slickening surfaces. I don’t fight the snow and ice. I work with it. I find the harmony. It is a natural thing.
Turning around for the last 3 miles home we are following some fresh tracks. These tracks are clean and almost powerful. A man’s shoe. The foot has struck the ground hard and straight and toed off with force. I look up ahead to see if he is there, but he is not. I look at the pointed prints of my own tracks from the way out. They are fine and even and straight and well placed, but they don’t have the power of this interloper. Heffalumps, Woozles.
Following someone else’s tracks in the snow can show you where the bad spots are. Look at where the footprints smudge and slide and you’ll see where they hit ice and had to correct. Like all things in life it is safer to follow another’s trail and learn from their mistakes.
His footprints are spread out about the same as mine. I wonder who is this other man? Who is this man with the fine stride out with me, a kindred spirit on this Boxing Day?
We go back to the car. Buddy is covered with snow but doesn’t want to stop. He wants to keep going, but it is time for dry clothes, and coffee and warmth.
We have left out footprints in the snow. We have left a message written with our feet, my dog and I. As poignant as any diary or tale, this story in the snow, this snapshot of our lives in this snowy and pretty place, this slice of time and life. Our footprint story intertwined with and overlaid onto the snowy stories of other runners on this Boxing Day.
Chris Russell lives and trains in suburban Massachusetts with his family and Border collie Buddy. Chris is the author of “The Mid-Packer’s Lament”, and “The Mid-Packer’s Guide to the Galaxy”, short stories on running, racing, and the human comedy of the mid-pack. Chris writes the Runnerati Blog at www.runnerati.com. Chris’ Podcast, RunRunLive is available on iTunes and at www.runrunlive.com. Chris also writes for CoolRunning.com (Active.com) and is a member of the Squannacook River Runners and the Goon Squad.
Email me at cyktrussell at Gmail dot com
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