Embrace it...or...Soy más fuerte

Staying off the subway, extreme edition, proving two tenets this morning:

1. I'm told yes I was dropped on my head once as a baby.

2. There is no such thing as bad weather, just bad gear. Today's 9 mile bike commute started in apparently 2 degree air. Brought to you by garmont hiking boots, marmot thermals, that full-wool sweater from Ecuador you bought in the student center lobby almost thirty years ago, Gore tex, ll bean for the jacket, and black diamond mittens (the ones that do nothing for you waiting for a bus miraculously kept most of the cold out this morning!) And fleece. Thanks heavens for fleece, including my Samaritans hat!

My phone said I couldn't use the flash in low temperatures...

Stay warm and careful out there!

Marathon Training, Frozen Tundra Style...

So this is how it's gonna be. Well, Happy New Year from the land of permanent First Night Ice Sculptures. 

It occurred to me that this is my third winter in a row filled with marathon training. I ran Hyannis in February, 2012. That was the mildest winter of the three, hands down. Warm, little precip, a joy for training. 

A fluke. 

We appear to be in year two of an ice nightmare winter trend. Cold, wet, icy, snowy. Lather. Rinse. Repeat. Erasing all memory of spring leaf, flower, fastball. 

This past Saturday, I ran thirteen miles on semi-plowed suburban sidewalks. In single digit temperatures. I overdressed - three layers on my legs and five layers of shirts/jackets. Three layers over my ears (balaclava, hat, turtle fur)! A pair of gloves under my mittens. 

I could have subtracted a layer from my legs and probably two from my tops but the wind chill was supposed to be in the minus twenties and I hate the feeling like I'll never be able to warm up after I've gotten chilled. The feeling that sets in November and doesn't lift until mid-May without me even leaving the house. 

At this point, with road shoulders plowed like clogged arteries, darkness, and bouts of arctic air, winter feels insurmountably constricting. (Though around here we are now getting more than a minute's worth of additional daylight each day, and finally sunrise and sunset are both moving backwards to more humane hours.) 

I so want to just stay in bed. But. Boston is calling and I want to run it like I own it because there will never be another one like it...and I'm not sure I have another one in me. So I train. 

I so want to just stay in bed, but Samaritans takes 350 calls each day - 24/7 - and I am honored to be able to use my running to make sure resources are available for each individual seeking help. I think about caller 351 - will that be someone I know, care about, depend on? Will Samaritans be able to take that call? 

I was asked why I'd run 13 outdoor miles on a day like Saturday, especially since I have a treadmill available. If I didn't get out there, winter would win, and I've got far too many years left in me to be cowed by an entire season. Even if I'd prefer it act more like 2012 and less like 2013/2014. I know what it's capable of and am disappointed terribly in this winter's failure to live up to that potential! 

Seven degree wind chill

In the aftermath of another winter storm, this one featuring a few badly-timed inches of snow, fierce winds up to 50mph, and bone- chilling cold, I put in my 19 training miles.

I can think of weather I'd rather run in, but there it is. Maybe last year's marathon day weather was so bad because the winter was so mild and I'll get good weather for my Boston?

I learned a duct tape trick to cover the toes of my trainers against the slush, which sort of worked for awhile. I looked for roads that were both plowed and low-traffic. 19 miles of them. Three hours and ten minutes worth.

Running up hills into the west wind brought me nearly to a standstill. I keep going, into what is kind of like resistance training -imagine how fast I'll be able to go on bare, warm pavement if I put my time in on the icy, slushy, windy days.

This run today was complicated by landing square on my unpadded sit bone playing Futsal this morning, getting knocked on my tush. Aggravating a two year old glute injury, but it's just a bruise, not a twist or a break...the upside of running in this kind of cold, and because I never really figured out how to keep my backside warm, I really couldn't feel much at all...I think all I can't do is sit.

Boston is a phenomenal town in which to run a marathon. Here, people cheer for everyone, not just the name on their signs.

Here, on a blowy Sunday afternoon when folks are digging out, I slog past a couple guys who encourage me, say they are jealous, and when I say "let's do this," one says, referring to Boston, 9 weeks to go! I suppose the only freaks out running on a day like this would be marathoners. Boston marathoners, this year, thank you, no caveat necessary!