By the time you read this it will be March, and winter will have trailed off, except in Boston, where they’re still digging out. But I’m writing this on February 9. It’s a typically raw, cold and ugly February day in the Northeast. This morning at about 7:30 I ventured out to Valley Forge National Historical Park for a run. Actually nowadays I don’t run, don’t really even jog; it’s more like plodding. Wasn’t the nicest morning, as I said; overcast with wetness in the air. Rain drops were on the car’s windshield; must’ve rained a bit last night. But if I can I avoid going to the Y and running on the dreadmill. Valley Forge is much more scenic and the cold winter air invigorates. The one thing that will drive me indoors is wind, and this morning there was no wind.
I pulled into the parking lot at Valley Forge and noticed the only person out and about was walking not on the asphalt path but the road. Hmmm. As soon as I stepped out of the car I knew why – my left foot skidded as soon as it hit the asphalt. Ah, the dreaded black ice. You can’t see it, but it’s there. Several weeks ago black ice caused a massive pile up on a Sunday morning on the Schuylkill Expressway (known locally as the Sure-kill Expressway) heading into Philadelphia. If you know it’s there, you can see the black ice – barely. It’s but a very thin transparent glaze covering black asphalt. I looked closely at the Valley Forge jogging path and could see where the path was dry, and where it glazed over. It was mostly glazed.