Between the Lines
Here Comes the Fun One winter morning more than a decade ago, after waking up to six inches of fresh snow, I set out on my morning run with a few extra layers on. I turned at the end of my driveway onto the network of dirt roads that lined my still unpaved neighborhood. It was difficult to see. A headwind blew popcorn-size snowflakes that stung my eyeballs. But as I ticked off my first hundred yards, I noticed some blinking lights emanating from an approaching intersection, where a right turn led down a steep hill. A little closer and I saw that the lights were embedded in a series of orange reflective triangles set upright on kickstands—caution signs for drivers. This was odd, so I slowed to investigate. Just as I…
