Running cold

Sometimes I hate working out inside. I really like to get out for a run or a bike, even in the winter weather months. So when I got up this morning I looked at the thermometer and thought...brrr...too cold to go for a run. Plus the little skiff of snow we had (never mind the temperature) would stop the bike from coming out for a number of months yet.

The temp when I got up was 3 degrees Fahrenheit. For those of you north of the border that is a mere -16 Celsius. Running was definitely out of the question.

But after getting artificially warmed up via some tea, I thought, well, maybe I could venture out. My husband of course commented that I was crazy but encouraged me to go out for a run anyway. I think he just likes to see me in some kind of sick pain or something.

OK, so let's prep...layers are needed. Running tank top. Check. Turtleneck fleece lined running shirt. Check. Windbreaker jacket. Check. Running tights. Check. Fuzzy socks. Check. Bright red scarf. Check. Bright blue headband to cover my ears. Check. Pastel pink mittens, the fuzzy kind. Check.

Off I headed out the door with my music on as usual, ready to conquer the great outdoors, prove that I am super tough, not stupid, just tough.

Never mind that I looked like Tinkerbell had thrown up.

That really didn't matter right? Not at all.

I had the scarf wrapped tightly around my lower face, mittens on, headband on, and all of the layers piled up like some kind of puff pastry.

I took off at what seemed like a fairly normal pace and after about a half-mile, as runners do, I checked my GPS watch. Was I running my normal pace?

Not even. It was more the pace of a snail voluntarily making his way to the escargot dish. So my solution? Stop looking at my GPS watch.

As I kept loping along I started to feel sweat dripping down my back. This is good. My hands were toasty warm. My face normal! My eyes, well they were forming little icicles. Nothing I couldn't see through, so keep marching on. My eyebrows were starting to look like those of an 80-year-old man who never faced a pair of scissors, something I never thought I would say in describing myself. But that was OK though, because I didn't feel cold around my face at all.

My feet were surprisingly warm too. When the story gets to my buttocks however it changes. Cold. Starting to go numb. This is nothing new to me because when I ski my rear is the coldest part. The chilly butt sometimes results in hand warmers (those little chemical packets) being shoved down my ski pants to keep a little chill off. As I pondered the foolishness of not taping little chemical hand warmers to my rear, I made the turn to head home.

There were deer, little bits of snow, icicles and lovely frosty trees along the route. My mind wandered as it often does and pretty soon there I am standing in front of my house.

The run lasted 34 minutes (OK, so I did look at the watch again) and really it was quite enjoyable. Stimulating even.

Once inside the icicles melted off my face almost as quickly as I got the sweaty clothes off. Eyebrows returned to normal and all was well.

It's been almost two hours and a hot shower since I came back in from my run. How is my butt, bum, rear, gluteus maximus doing? Well, it's still freezing thank you very much! Nothing unusual there.

Twyla-Lea Jensen lives in Coeur d'Alene.