Yesterday I woke up to wet sidewalks and misty air. When I let Kona outside, I felt like I was vacationing on the coast. The moisture gathered to become sideways drizzle. I thought about taking my rain jacket for our run, but decided to take my chances.
We left early and got to the trailhead before 6AM. The marine layer muted the sky, giving the feel of a dark winter morning. I took off with a spring in my step. Any weather that holds off Summer is worth celebration.
When we reached the top of our first hill, two telephone poles buzzed with electricity. The wires followed us overhead for several meters, sounding like a swarm of techno bees. We turned off onto another trail and climbed towards quieter ground. Quail zipped around, seeming to enjoy the moisture.
We took off down our longest hill. I felt bad about keeping Kona off the banks of the trail where she usually frolics through grass and shrubs. She's banded from bushwacking until the end of foxtail season. I'm glad that she hasn't seemed stressed about me pulling her away from scents, but she isn't as spunky with her new restrictions.
At the bottom of the hill, Kona made a mad dash off the trail to remind me of her upset stomach. I decided it wasn't a day to push hard, especially since Kona would be on a restricted stinky-bum diet.
So we turned around before reaching the bee boxes. Kona, the speed trooper, didn't seem sick at all as she pulled me uphill in full sled dog fashion. Running as fast as I could, I still moved slow enough to take in the details of our landscape. A few wildflowers poked up between heaps of mustard. The flowers' color seemed to glow under a layer of mist. It reminded me of our runs at the beginning of the year.
We made it back to the car a few pounds heavier with water. My fleece vest and shirt were soaked through and Kona left muddy paw prints on the car seat. Another good morning.