I became convinced that Spring had arrived in the South early last week, when one of the cats walked across the room and left a cat hair trail in her wake. Uh…oh. I sent Scott a text message with the alarming news:
THE SPRING SHED IS UPON US.
Now, this maybe wouldn’t be such a big deal except for the fact that (1) pretty much all of our friends (or their significant others) are allergic to cats, (2) we pride ourselves on having a house that doesn’t scream CATS LIVE HERE the moment the door is opened, and (3) we’re fairly neat people generally. In other words, we like a clean house. A clean house is a happy house where friends can come over (virtually) sneeze-free and I am not the constant recipient of musings about when my two cats will suddenly become twelve. (I do have crazy cat lady tendencies.) The annual shedding season makes it extremely difficult to keep both the clean house and the cats.
The fact that it wasn’t particularly warm or pleasant last week did not deter me. Neither did the groundhog’s predictions nor the fact that it is currently February, which in many parts of the country is still the dead of winter. Nope. The cats have spoken — in South Carolina, it’s nearly time to abandon the winter coats.
Last weekend, I had further proof…South Carolinians, could you believe this weekend? I mean, my goodness. The past five weekends have been some combination of wet or cold. Like clockwork. This past Saturday and Sunday was ripped straight from the perfect spring weather playbook: highs in the 60’s, light breeze, clear blue skies, low humidity…Marathon Expert (who spent a few years in a much warmer climate and has embraced warm-weather running) all but skipped through our random long run this weekend.
Sunday was equally gorgeous. Scott joined me on the bike for a recovery 5-miler. I had fun pretending that I was fast enough and “legit” enough to warrant my very own pace bike. I had fun wearing my cheap sunglasses and a Star Wars-referencing shirt I bought at the 2009 marathon attempt but have never worn because once we got home I thought it was too small. I had fun teasing my husband about the spandex pants requisite for all road bikers. Heck, I just plain had fun.
And as the picture from Scott’s cell phone shows, things get a little bit goofy when spring arrives:
What is going on here? Is that wonky arm swing supposed to replicate running? Am I about to bust out some surely awesome dance moves (AKA embarrass myself in front of the neighbors)? Whatever the case, try to ignore the supreme dorkiness and focus on the authentic sunshine permeating the entire scene. Sigh. I know I like to run in the rain and the cold, but I’m thankful for change, too. Take heart, readers from the Midwest…it will be heading your way eventually. 🙂