The irony was not lost on me. Yesterday morning, as I typed up a soon-to-be-published post for Babble about how I learned to love running in the cold last winter while training for Boston, I simultaneously tried to rationalize skipping my planned run with a friend. Snow was in the forecast, and with temperatures in the 30s, it’s much colder than it was last week. Too cold too quickly, I told myself. Thirty degrees is fine for a January run, but not November. It’s too cold for November. Plus, the snow. And wouldn’t the kids get cold? (I tried to ignore the fact that just the day before we had spent a couple of hours at Uniqlo outfitting our children in “heattech” clothing with the express purpose of trying to keep them warm when we were outside for long periods of time.)
But, as I said, the irony was not lost and, once I talked myself out of all the rationalizations, I told myself I’d go out no matter what. Even if my running buddy scoffed at the idea. Which she didn’t: “Snow is better than rain in my book. We will just bundle extra!”
And there went my last hope for an out. Because if my rational, intelligent, even-keeled friend thought it was going to be just fine to run with children in the cold and snow, then I really had no reason not to.
So we bundled extra. Little Miss looked just like Santa Claus (minus the beard) in her new puffy red full-body coat with her shiny black boots. Squish took great pride in layering his jeans and hoodie over his heattech long johns and turtle neck. And with gloves and hats and blankets and the weather shield, I knew they would be just fine. It could be 10 degrees colder and they would still be just fine. Maybe even 20 degrees colder.
For my part, I had on my running tights, a tank top, a short-sleeved shirt, a long-sleeved shirt, and . . . another long-sleeved shirt. With a hood. I pulled on some knit gloves and called it good. And it was good. We ran 8 miles, half of them with my friend and her son, and didn’t notice the cold one bit.
It was fortuitous, I’m sure, that I was writing that post on that particular day, and remembering how at the end of my training last winter I thought, “I’ve got to remember: winter running is awesome!” If I hadn’t, I might have missed out on the rush of conquering the cold and beating excuses.
And with a start like that, I’m pretty sure it’s going to be a great winter. (And I say that without a trace of irony.)