This morning I woke up in a funk. The longer I stayed in my cozy warm bed, the funkier I felt. So what did I do? Inspired by my dear friend Laurel, I went running. In 28 degrees, wind chill 18.
I bundled myself up--leggings, thick pants, one short-sleeved shirt, one long-sleeved shirt, two jackets, gloves, head/face/neck wrap, hat, gloves.
Instead of being vanquished to the warmth of the gym, I battled with the wind and joined its forces. I ran up and down hills, pounding the pavement to my tunes and my own beat.
This morning's run reminded me of other very chilly morning runs--like the Snowflake Race in Central Park with Tori. I think it was windchill 4 degrees--we lathered up in vasoline as a windbreaker for our faces and braved the frigid. That's when I became a true New Yorker. Then there was the George Washington President's Day run with Jessica in Alexandria. The roads were so snowy and icy that they changed the course to do two loops on boring Eisenhower Boulevard. But we braved the ice and finished the race. Or last year's Thanksgiving Day Turkey Trot with Lisa. I sort of forgot my warm(er) running clothes as I packed for Annie's wedding, and ended up buying some construction gloves at a nearby gas station (thank goodness). It was 23 degrees and we ran as fast as I can remember running. Then there was training for some marathon with Debbie and Lindsay on the Provo River Trail. I still remember those icicles in Deb and Linds's eye brows.
I've done it again and again. Sometimes I just have to put those shoes on and grab those ear warmers and hit the pavement, ready to brave the frigid. Sometimes I think it's important to understand the necessary tools, to learn how to pad and protect and shield ourselves. And to come off conqueror.