Day 47 - Lent

For full disclosure, I am not Catholic. I was raised in the Episcopal church, and that stuck like mercury on teflon.


Regardless, today is Fat Tuesday, which means that Lent is upon us. Catholics and non-Catholics alike are gearing up to give up, give up something in their lives for 40 days, give or take (St. Patrick's Day usually warrants a pass, and sometimes weekends, and days that are just crappy).


The idea is to remind believers of the sacrifice made for them.


I'd like to offer an alternative to the traditional self-denial.


Instead of giving up something, how about adding something. Rather than focusing on sacrifice, take the time to celebrate your life and who you are.


Find something that makes you more connected to a part of you that you don't see enough of, something that makes you feel good about yourself and/or your life.


Do that everyday until Easter.


Run, if that's your thing (within reason, of course... consult your doctor, etc.). If not that, find something else. Maybe do some yoga, write in a journal, phone friends or relatives you don't talk to enough. Oooh, better yet, write letters. How much happiness could you spread by writing a different loved one every day. And you might even get some letters back.


Whatever your thing, just do it, once a day. Set aside just a few minutes for yourself, to touch base with yourself, and to remind yourself who you really are.


Ok, enough of the preachy monologue... running blog, remember?


Still basking in the glorious snowy 7-miler from yesterday, I took a rest-mile day, but did it through more deep snow. Took the work loop around the pond.

Saw a frozen fish at the "piddly run-off." Seriously, frozen... covered in a layer of ice. (Could prove handy for some of you traditional Lenters out there looking for a quick lunch.)

Me, almost up to my knees, in fresh drifted powder.

At several points, had to blaze my own trail through the drifts. It was exhilarating!


This is how I'll be spending Lent, and (pick your deity) willing, the rest of the year.


Numbers: 1.3 miles through drifts of fresh powder.