It is a blisteringly cold, but sunny January Monday afternoon and the call of the wild speaks to Hershey. The wind carries the whisper of his forbearers hunting through the wood and plains. The scent of snow and squirrels wafts like dead leaves upon the air. Bundling up in galoshes and a fleece line coat, Hershey and I (also in winter clothes) head up our street where a hidden path joins the trail system of the state forrest.

Two weeks ago, I ran the Fred Lebow half marathon in Central Park. I had been freaking out about the cold temperature as I hadn’t done much outdoor running this winter so far. Luckily, the sun came out and for the first time in seemingly weeks, the temperature was above freezing. It was actually rather perfect weather, though I did get a bit sniffly. I’m not sure why I keep running in Central Park.