Temperature's rising

With all due respect to President Obama, at this time, on this day, after a dreary, bitterly cold winter and another eight weeks to go, this is what hope and change mean to me right now — buds on the lilac bushes and snow melt on the streets.
Forget the economic crisis, partisan politics, health care coverage, national service programs and the war in Iraq.
This is about me and the promise of winter's end.
Sun, blue skies, temps rising into the 30s (!) and an afternoon run before picking up kids from school. Talk about heaven on earth.
I am giddy with anticipation. No thick, wind- and cold-proof pants. No double layer of socks. Ears and face are free of fleece. Hands are bare. And what? Only two tops? There hasn't been this little between my body and the outside air since October.
We meet at 2:15 and set out on a run that is as liberating as I had imagined all morning. Just thinking about running in temperatures so far above zero for the first time in so long is nearly exciting as the actual run itself.
At 36 degrees, the air gives off a slight scent — mud, grass, wetness, even dog poop — that had disappeared into the frozen nothingness of winter. The chirps of the first returning birds break the months of crisp silence.
In the post run glow, I'm struck by the same thought as I am every time this part of the year rolls around. As miserable as winter can be, it makes the warmth that follows all the more sweet.
The same goes for running outside through these horrendous months.
True, we slog through the ice and the snow, the cold and the wind. Yes, it is miserable and borderline crazy. But the test of will, the push past limits ... there is an undeniable sense of self discovery in the struggle and a pure joyousness in the survival.
Of course, such reflection and appreciation don't come so easily in the thick of the battle; on those days when surrender sings the siren's song and the lure of doing nothing beckons slyly.
Only now, when it is clear that the worst is behind us and the best is yet to come, can I sit here smugly at my computer and wax philosophical about the brutality of the journey.