I took advantage of the Easter weekend and got in twenty-one miles, all on the East Boulder Trail. 8, 8, and 5. I had to go out earlier today to make time in the day for everything else. I was rewarded with a run with a front row seat to watching the storm come in. I love that.
The run started out a little warm. A cool breeze picked up momentum on my return leg. The clouds rolled in and filtered the sun, which was just crossing that boundary, formed by my body, from east to west.
The snow on the Indian Peaks was still bright white. I knew that later, as the sun crossed the peak’s boundaries, the snow mountainsides would turn to blue. And as the sun set, with some rays angled straight into my eyes, other rays would bounce off the snow and color the sky in glorious pinks, like the Hills of Calvary on fire. The rain finally dropped on my windshield as I pulled into my neighborhood.
I’ve enjoyed my three-day weekend. Besides good runs, I cut, painted and installed a shelf, and hung a hook to Ellie’s wall for her guitar. I wished I’d spent more time with friends, but it’s a family weekend. Getting ready now to rotisserie mutton for my tribe.