Just another January long run

While winter is one of my favourite seasons for running, last Friday I found myself facing some classic winter-running dilemmas as I considered how to approach my long run.  The buses were cancelled due to slippery conditions, and visibility was only so-so thanks to the snow and wind.

Now, there are days when I am happy to run on the treadmill, but today felt like one of those days where a run would be a mental struggle no matter how I went about it.  I decided I would run outside, but to be safe I would need to stay in town so I settled on 5 laps around a 4K block.  I knew it would be harder to cheat, bail, or otherwise self-sabotage than if I was cozy in my basement – and really, it wasn’t cold out.  So in addition to my usual running attire, I threw on my Yak Trax and a pair of low-light sunglasses, and headed out the door.

The sidewalks really weren’t that slippery – it’s hard to slip in two inches of packing snow.  Thanks to the Yak Trax, the snow wasn’t building up in my treads; however, you can carry a significant amount of snow around in your Yak Trax. Don’t ask me how this works, I only know that it does – I felt like I had a brick in each shoe.

I was really glad I had those sunglasses – at least at first.  The snow was driving straight sideways in that way that is like getting a good sandblasting to the face.  But because it wasn’t cold, the heat radiating out of my jacket was fogging up my glasses, so I couldn’t see with them, and I couldn’t see without them. I left them on because the fog was preferable to the eyeball exfoliation.

Naturally, on lap one, I didn’t know where the icy patches or puddles were, thanks to the snow.  Luckily I never slipped, but I did positively soak my feet in a deep snow-covered lake puddle.

On the second lap, I noticed the snow was getting deeper.  In fact, I couldn’t see any trace of my tracks from the first lap.  My legs were starting to get sluggish thanks to trudging through the snow, and now, in addition to feeling like I had a brick in each shoe, I was also pretty sure there was a small person holding on to each foot .  I successfully avoided the puddles this time, but it was too late – my feet were so drenched that I could feel the water squish between my toes with every step.

By lap three, the snow was about 4 inches deep.  In the middle of that lap, even my Garmin gave up – the battery died.  As I approached the end of my street for the third time, I wondered why I thought it would be a good idea to follow a loop that went past the end of my street.  In order to convince myself to run past and not turn in, I told myself that if I did lap 4, I wouldn’t force myself to do lap 5.  Of course, this was just a mind trick – I am both a Jedi knight and a weak-minded Storm Trooper when it comes to tricking myself – I knew that when I finished lap 4 I would tell myself “it’s only one more lap.”

Sure enough, I trudged past my street a 4^th time.  For a few minutes I felt elated.  I believe my exact words were, “Woo hoo! I’ve done it! Last lap!”

The celebration was a little premature, however, because my legs felt like lead and my feet were downright numb.  I couldn’t help but laugh – probably a little bit maniacally – as I stopped at the same red light for the fifth time.  But when I was ¾ of the way through that lap, I knew I would make it, and I let myself walk up the big hill for the first time that day – after all, there had to be some reward for putting myself through this!

When I got home, I peeled off my socks, wrung them out, and looked at my toes – they looked like weird albino raisins.  I looked at the clock and realized my pace barely rivalled that of a snail, and yet my legs were thoroughly trashed.

So I took a long, hot shower.  Then I made a smoothie and a cup of coffee and sat down to work, relieved to be off my very tired feet.

For a brief moment I found myself thinking, “I love winter!”  At least until I heard the snow plough go by and looked at the ridge of giant snow and ice balls it had pushed into my driveway.  I won’t tell you what I found myself thinking after that.