A fellow runner wrote a funny and spot-on article about being a runner in Vermont in March. He captures the wind, the rain, the crazy fluctuations in temperature (63 degrees here today…) and of course mud season. To me, however, March means something entirely different and wonderful.
It’s the time of year where I wash my lucky Heels shirt every night, where I have no idea what day it is but I know who’s playing and when I have a copy of every bracket in my bag because I can’t remember who I took for my family competition versus my friends versus the local bar. I find out about schools I never knew existed. (Lamar?! Where the hell is that?) I cheer for teams I NEVER cheer for (anyone beating Duke). If I can’t watch the game live, I hit refresh on my phone as long as the battery lasts. And I’m hoarse from the Big Dance on. When I lived in North Carolina, we were basically off for all of March Madness because everyone knew that everyone else was just sitting in their cube watching the games. Up here, it’s not quite as much a part of the lifestyle, but I’m still taking the next two weeks seriously.
Let’s go Heels.