Snow!

When I was a child, I would have put on my snow clothes and gone out to play. As an adult, I put on my running clothes and head out to run.

This is supposed to be a record-breaking December snowstorm. The snow started in the middle of the night. Now, at noon, as I sit here and type and look out the window, my belly full of breakfast, the snow is falling fast.

There were perhaps five inches of it this morning when I started running from my apartment in Capitol Hill to the Running Company in Georgetown, where I was planning to meet anyone who was dumb enough to show up to the usual Saturday run at 9 a.m. Basically, there's really just one thing to keep in mind when running through snow: Watch out for the spots where people have shoveled to make the area safe; those are the only unsafe spots.

This was not a run. This was more like an expedition. And it took me much longer to get to the store, where I met Max and Murphy, than I thought it would. (It took 37 minutes.)

The snow will unify runners. On Pennsylvania Ave., near Foggy Bottom, I saw a wizened master heading toward me. I raised my ski glove as I passed. He slapped it: "Great. No cars out here, man!"

A minute later I saw Georgetown's running squad, a solid pack. A guy yelled, "Dude, come run with us!" (Sorry, brother.)

The stores were open in Georgetown. It smelled like grease. I opened the door to the store and saw that Murphy and Max were almost ready to roll. We ran back to the Mall, following no particular path, just intuitively seeking out decent footing. I parted with them in front of the Capitol, running on the sidewalks through deep snow.

12 miles. Longest day since the marathon.