Dear Owner of the 1990's Green Honda Parked on 48th & Spruce,

...So that was me, dressed like a Navy Seal, standing under a street light on the corner of 48th and Spruce, drawing a heart in the fresh snow that painted your hood.  I realize it was a big heart and sort of crooked and  that it was a bit presumptuous of me to draw something so personal on a stranger's car.  But, in my defense, it was 6:30AM on a Friday morning and it had been snowing for about an hour.  I know this because my 12 mile run began just as the flurries decided to fall.  The city was silent underneath the weight of this beautiful half inch of white peacefulness and I felt compelled to show you that there is still beauty in this world by drawing elementary shapes on your vehicle.  And so, the heart incident happened.

By way of background, this run began on the coldest day of the year with snow flying in sideways and directly into my eyes.  At the Mile 1 Beep, I thought of hot coffee, a hot shower, a hair dryer and warm clothes, and, most of all, turning around.  At the Miles 3 and 4 Beeps, I was decidedly warmer and my face was basically numb from the wind and, you guessed it, snow.  It wasn't until mile 5 that I found myself admiring all of the untouched snow amid the UPenn doctors and nurses, wearing their heavy coats and clogs (or are they crocks now?), making their way down the slippery sidewalks to their hospitals sitting at the base of the medical hill.  I thought about drawing something somewhere the entire way up through campus and then, on my way back down, at about mile 7 of a 12 mile run, I saw your car sitting there.

Admittedly, my mitten was tracing the crooked heart before I could really think the thing through.  Clearly, it wasn't centered or even on both sides.  I am no artist.  Just a runner that gets so high on running sometimes, it's hard to hold it all in.  And, even at 32, there is something about running in the snow that brings the kid back to the surface for moments like this one, when you're just trying to get a very basic message of joy and hope across to a complete stranger and anyone who happened to pass it along their snowy walk to work.

My hope was simple:  I wanted you to know that someone was up before you, playing her heart out in the snow, and loving beyond familiarity.

The snow stopped around mile 8 and the sun rose up so slowly and gracefully, I had the chance to notice each ray as it greeted the day.  The sky was, at once, pink and purple and warm.  This was the kind of morning when I am grateful to be alive and humbled to be a participant.   And so, Honda Owner, I truly hope that you smiled when you saw your car that morning.

Love, Me