Windows

It's true that it rains a lot in Seattle in the winter.

However, in the year and a half that I've been running outdoors at least twice a week, it's been quite rare that I've had to run in the rain. Often, like this morning, I drive to the Pro Club in the rain, walk into the club in the rain, then exit the club with my girlfriends to surprise dry weather.

We run just before dawn, when the day is still deciding what it's going to be. Sometimes, like today, it sprinkles for a couple of minutes while we wait on a street corner for the light to change. Then it stops. Sometimes the sun begins to rise and the overcast skies break up and let light through.

Other days it stays dark, and we return to the club, shower, dress, and leave again in a downpour. We run to our cars with jackets over our clean, dry hair.

We run in the window between night and day. My daughter has been waking up at 4:45 when I leave the house. She comes downstairs and asks me to cuddle her. I tell her I need to leave, but she should go back to bed. I almost say, "It's still night-time," but I don't want to explain why I'm eating breakfast and making coffee in the middle of the night.

This morning the girls and I filled the window with more than 8 miles of running, chatting, and camraderie, like we do most Tuesday and Thursday mornings. For me, it was a fabulous, solid run - at one point, with a little over a mile to go, I felt like I could just keep going and run a marathon today.

There were five of us together, and at one point, when I was slightly behind the others, I was just struck with how lucky I am.

Not only that I have a rain-free window most Tuesday and Thursday mornings. And not only that I'm able to take that window between night and day and use it for my health and fitness.

But primarily because running gives me a window into other people's lives - my friends and running partners. We're really quite a diverse group of women, brought together just because we're women runners; initially we had no idea if we had anything else in common. We find friendship and support while we seek well-lit pavement. So to my friends: I don't say it enough. Thank you for waking up and being there and sharing the windows with me. I appreciate you more than you know.