The coldest day on record

It is Sunday morning. It is dark. The alarm has gone off and I am making coffee.
Heat floods the house and the coffee warms my core. By the time I am packed, I feel over dressed for the morning.
Light fills the earth. We are driving west, away from its source and still it catches up. I am too warm, huddled under down coats and wind breakers. I fear I will start sweating and rue the day.
The race I should have entered begins as well pull in the parking lot. No matter. I have no confidence that I can go 3 miles without cramping and suffering, so I have elected to run on my own. I know the trails. And I am happy to be tagging along.
Mark has his own rules. And I am not following them. I should pay to enter. I should run faster. And I should not have concern over so few "feet."
Registration accomplished, Mark returns to my side as I stare in amazement at the curve in the river below me.
THERE IS ICE ON THE TRINITY.
I am cold. I am not comfortable. But I am not freezing, complaining or even suffering.
But there is ice on the Trinity.
Never, in 11 years have I seen it get so cold. Never have I imagined that I could. It's like snow in Key West. Or Al Gore with a full head of hair. Global Warming?
I am catapulted back to every frigid Sunday morning run along this river. Followed quickly by every hot and humid, barely moving, slog at 100 degrees. Is this really Texas?
I decided I am going to get ready to run. I have more clothes to add. And some to shed. And Mark and I rush back to the cars.
Before I step out on the "Trinity," I side step into a pot-o-john and notice that it's too cold to smell.
Then, I take the first few tentative steps down the path and there is no pain. My knee and leg feel different, where I ahve added a harder heel lift to the left shoe.... but soon I am no longer cognizent as I shuffle along the crushed rock path, remembering everything and learning it all anew once again.
I am delighted. I am so happy that it doesn't hurt. I am trying to remember how many steps I have taken on this path? And how many I have taken since?
At the basketball courts I turn around. I am still moving strongly and without pain. I am a bit colder now, with the wind invading my pits. A headwind. But not enough to slow me down.
At the stone pavillion I walk. The runners of the official race are coming at me now and I can see that Mark is not in first. In a second, however, I see him. And I wave a little wave.
Will he mind?
It is so good to watch him run.
The TCU track team has passed me too. A runner from Kenya with the sing-song voice. Heels touching backside, he makes me feel like my shuffling is a joke. But oh the glory of a real runner running. It is a thing to behold.
Mark is long gone and I have 45 mintues to get dressed and have coffee before he returns. I take the keys and head for the car.
At Starbucks, I invade the bathroom and change clothes slowly. Layer upon layer. I realize that I will need to buy water. And I wonder if the coffee I buy will be good.
The fleshy bits are freezing. But the jeans feel good.
The coffee cup smells funny. But the water tastes great.
I return to the start and converse with the runners. The RD is friendly. The whole thing low key.
Mark and the winner appear as if on cue. Just about a minute after we expected. He is consistent and knows his pace. That's for sure.
We're discussing the signage and where he got lost. He is talking beside me. I am thrilled and in awe.
"When do you want to leave," he askes.
"Right after you get your award," I say.
"Award? "
"You get a plaque," I explain.
"I don't want a plaque." he says.
He grabs a coke and we are gone.
"Do you want to go to a museum" he asks?
"Sure," I say. "Do you want to eat first?"
"Yes"
It is Sunday, mid-morning and the line at the pancake house is long. The sun has risen above the tree line and the wind is making itself known.
I am wearning a down parka and my face is still one fire. Across the lot and below me, there is still ice on the Trinity.