I’ve been thinking about the upcoming winter with a certain amount of dread.
Last winter was hard to endure on account of the endless snow and ice (but less because of the snow and ice per se than the city’s inability to remove it) and my ankle, which I severely twisted in February.
Sometimes it’s hard to remember trauma without succumbing to a sense of doom and futility.
But why should I feel this way? I’m now running again and I have made it through the snow (and the city’s bad infrastructure) many times before.
And the October light is reason enough to feel hopeful.
