Snow was a lot more fun as a kid...

I mean, I love snow, don't get me wrong. But 22 inches is a bit much especially when I'm the one who has to shovel all of it. As a kid, snowfall meant no school, snow suits and orange glider sled action all day long. We didn't care if the steps were cleared; if the cars could get out; if we had 1 gallon of milk in the house or 5 gallons and a week's worth of bread.......But I digress........with shovel in hand, I suited up in my winter armor (consisting of old AE moon boots, tear away track pants and gloves far to small for me) before tackling the mammoth wall of white ice yesterday morning. But before I went into battle, I asked myself three things:

1. Really....do I really need to go anywhere in the next three days...really?
2. Would it be easier to shovel or burrow my way out? And how does one even go about burrowing?
3. Why don't I live in Southern California?

Once I masterminded answers to these three questions, I decided that time was of the essence and the sooner I got a path dug for the dogs and to our cars the faster I could applaud my manhood and expert shoveling techniques and return inside like a soggy baby who needed hot cocoa. Look, I'm not proud of it but 22 inches in twelve hours can make a man act crazy ways.

Worst part is, this snowmaggeden or whatever the media has dubbed it canceled any chance I had at completing my long run for the week. I'm still undecided on what gym I can use while I'm at this house for the next month so running outside amidst the elements is my only arena right now for logging miles. Must find gym, and fast.