Six miles in the snow

I have taken many great showers in my life.

My sorority in college had an annual mud party, during which some 60 women and their dates played in a mud pit. The showers immediately following that event were, without a doubt, some of the best of my life.

For spring break my senior year of college, my best friend and I rode a Greyhound bus to Washington, D.C. The ride took 40 hours each way. There was no showering during the journey. We smelled rank by the time we reached our hotel in the nation's capitol. That shower, too, was a memorable one.

But none of those can compare to the amazing shower I took Saturday morning after completing a six-mile run in the snow. The steamy hot water beating on my back, comforting joints and warming body parts I feared I'd never feel again, just can't be beat.

Before I could step in the tub, I spent several minutes disrobing. I had to peel off the layers upon layers of clothing I wore to keep myself warm: underarmor, a cotton T-shirt, a jacket and a hooded sweatshirt on the top; two pairs of pants on the bottom; a pair of gloves coated by a pair of mittens on my hands; and a hat, a scarf and a hood around my face and head.

The top layers were frigid, but the bottom layers were sweaty (and FROZEN), proving that you sweat no matter how cold it is out there. My hair was a matted mess. Ew.

After the shower, though, I can't even describe how accomplished I felt. Six miles is the farthest I have ever run at one time. It felt good.

For much of the run, I jogged alongside my pace group leader, Jason. He's great. He gave all sorts of encouragement and tips.

He said if I can keep up with my current pace, I should be able to not only complete a half marathon in April but also a full marathon in November. That was thrilling to hear.

I am excited to keep up my training this week.