Winter Running

I really don’t like the winter. That wasn’t always the case.

I really don’t like the winter. That wasn’t always the case. Coming from western Oregon where a pittance ofsnow fell once a year, I dreamed of experiencing theworld of white I saw on movies, TV and Packer’s home games. I actually looked forward to a “Real Winter” when I moved to Wisconsin years ago. Oh sure, the first couple of years of shoveling dimmed a bit of that fantasy. But damn if I still didn’t enjoy a true “Snow Day” where the elements shut everything down and all you could­ do was enjoy a bottle of a hearty red wine while trying to stay ahead by shoveling every few hours.

That all changed when I returned to “serious” running. Not the “whenever I feel like it” running that had been my manta for too many decades. But the “Mission from God” training that sternly dictates my life now. As it is, I cannot avoid a feeling of dread when the calendar turns to December. No matter the number of pleasant days, my heart and winter tights know that it is only a matter of time until snow will arrive, bringing colder temps and ice. All of which dares to playabsolute havoc with my running schedule.

Sure, a few inches of fresh white aren’t a big deal. The run will be slower, but doable. And bless the people who have the moral fiber to clear their sidewalks early!But deep snow is another matter. Can’t lift the feet that high and Nike isn’t known for snowshoes. Another complication is that frigid air typically follows a snowfall, meaning temps tumbling into single digits or subzero. But with enough layers, that challenge can be conquered...to a point. (Not sure how cold is too cold, but I don’t really want to be found looking like Jack Nicolas at the end of the original “Shining.” Goggle it if you have to.)

But the snow won’t stop there. For me, the one unsurmountable part of winter is ice. Nothing good comes from tumbling onto it. Particularly when you run alone in the early morning as I do. That means I not only miss outdoor running when the snow’s too deep or it’s too cold, but also most frustratingly, when it starts to melt and then freezes over night. The temps outside may be fine, but without safe footing, I’m stuck with Plan B.

Yes, I know there are treadmills. Thanks to training at The Body Project, I even know how to use them. But that doesn’t mean I trust them. I know in my heart that every treadmill I step onto is just waiting for that one opportunity to fling me off the back end where a crowd of onlookers can break out into taunting laughter that echoes Charlie Brown’s worst defeats on the mound.

To avoid that humiliation, during winter months, I maintain a membership at the Mercy Wellness Center where I can use their indoor track. While it’s a wonderful facility, you have to run ten laps for each mile. And you can pass a group of weightlifters and people on treadmills only so many times before it all gets a bit monotonous. For me, that’s about three time. Which means even a short run becomes akin to watching paint dry.

All of which hopefully helps explain why I occasionally post on social media the frosted pics of myself after some cold morning run. It’s not that I’m crazy. It’s just that to me running has always been and will be going along some bicycle path or trail or road with the wind in my face and changing scenery, listening to either music from my romanticized youth or some outstanding Dad Rock on my earbuds. Is it too much to ask that one season out of the year have the decency to respect that? (Oh and we can do without thunderstorms in the other months, but that’s a topic for another time.)