It feels, in a sense, sacrilegious to complain about perfect running weather during a time of year typically noted for its abundance of doom and gloom. But even though the warm sun on my shoulders adds a noticeable lightness to my attitude and bounce to my step, I continue to struggle mightily with the fact that this is, quite simply, not “right.” And then (of course) I feel sorry for looking the gift horse in the mouth (48 degrees and sunny does indeed feel good after all), but truth be told, the pleasure this weather brings feels equivalent to the satisfaction of having impulsively stolen something desired but not strictly needed.* Which is to say that there’s perhaps a slight illicit thrill, but any enjoyment is so strongly tempered by the guilt of having acquired something this way that it is, in fact, nearly impossible to truly enjoy it at all.
And so it goes, and so I cannot help but feel frustrated at the expressed appreciations of this supposed anomaly. Because this weather, it’s not deserved. We haven’t made it through a long cold winter. We’ve stolen it by playing dirty (quite literally, if you want to talk emissions), and it’s time to give it back. At this point, while clearly some damage has already been done, maybe there’s still time to avoid the direst of consequences by coming clean.
But in the spirit of Alexander, I still think I’ll move to Alaska.
*These, admittedly, are hypothesized emotions as I have never actually stolen something, impulsively or otherwise. But again, admittedly, I have thought about it and this imagined sense of ensuing guilt is what has stopped me every time.