By disposition, I am a creature of the the Summer and the Sun.  I flourish while running in 90 degree weather.  I lived/worked in the jungles of tropical Panama for 4 years and never found reason to complain.  My mind always melds psychic with the starkest dominations of the ever-powerful Heliosphere.

But I own the Winter.

I did not say I’m giddily over-enthused about Winter.  But I own it, nonetheless.

Yesterday an Alberta Clipper came crashing into the North Coast (where I now find haven).  There was blowing snow, winds at 30 mph gusting to 40 mph, a barometric pressure of 29.5, and a temperature of 20 F. with a wind chill factor of 0.  It was Thanksgiving, so a great day to huddle indoors, no?

Not I.  I own the Winter and must welcome its manifestations, even in late-Fall.  So yesterday I returned to a Dreamland cemetery in the grip of the Clipper and ran.  7.1 miles, if you must know.  And so I resumed the path of my vision, a vision I had about this very same time last year.

What did I see then?

There, in my mind’s eye, were a pair of rugged warriors, two brothers, both Norsemen, running the very same cemetery ground as I was upon.  They were ancient yet alive, shaggily-clothed and running in a wicked blizzard.  Intrepid they were and disregarding of all comfort.  And then I came to realize: they were running through the winter.  I mean literally that: I discerned their intent to ‘run through’ the cold and darkness of the grisly winter season unstoppingly.  Suddenly, I had a shift of vision.  I lost track of one of the ancient ones.  And I became the other one that remained.  I saw myself as I ran as the lone brother that was left.  Left behind.  Left afar.  Left to run.  Through the winter.  And then the feeling of being a genuine king flooded my consciousness.  And an enlightenment followed: I, in visionary embodiment of that ancient Norse warrior king, have been left, alone, to own the Winter and to seek.  Simply seek.  And since I own the Winter, I must lead, lead the way to Spring.

So when Spring 2006 re-appears in your neighborhood, you may thank me.  Until then, thank you, I’ll be too busy running to take any complaints.