Snowy Boulder reflections

If I was a poet, I’d spend some time describing the peace of this morning’s snowy run–the trees burdened with heavy powder, the quiet broken only by the pound of my footsteps …

But because I’m not, I feel like I should tell you about the wicked snot rockets I was able to launch, since the cold induced my nose to run just as hard as my feet were.

They were awesome.

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