Where boys veer to tread

In the words of Al Gore - the days lately have been Inconveniently Warm. This time last year, I was bundled up to the eyes with polar fleece, feeling the cold all the way to the core, sneaking out and racing the wind, risking frozen facial features for the joy of the chase. This year, the digital mercury on theweathernetwork.com has been dyslexic - infused with the antidepressants of cilmate change, numbers are typically overwhelmingly negative are suddenly consistently positive.

Despite one day of white covering green, snow has been missing without leave. So scarce in fact, that I was startled to find the roads and sidewalk frosted with a thin layer of silver under the stars tonight. Started out lightly, first testing the brakes and treads. Legs don't come with anti-lock anything, and one false sense of security can easily turn a brake to a break, and thats the last thing I need.

As my breath warmed the air in front of me, the frost seemed to part - making traction possible for speed. Speed is a relative term, but long strides make anyone feel like a cheetah.

The cold air lent itself well to acoustics. The sounds of action up ahead steered my course away from the usual midnight miles. Voices and cheers reverberated off of a building and into my airspace. Came across the culprits, the usual suspects. Deuce, DJ, Evan, Luke and Tbird... mini football in the frost - sliding across the asphalt, trying to out-ronaldinho eachother without giving into gravity. Stayed and watched for awhile, wanted to join in, and play all night - but tights (real men wear running tights) and worn out mizunos didn't fill me with confidence.

Finally took off, and did a circle of the campus, making a point to climb the hill that was once my nemesis in the fall. When getting back on my feet post-op, I insisted on climbing this hill as a part of my rehab. Looped back home, a block from the makeshift soccer field, hearing the ball echo off brick over and over, as the score surely rose into the hundreds....