I got spoiled jogging on a treadmill over Christmas break. To come back to running at sea level--something I was stupidly excited about--has been ruined by bitter cold. I've gone out jogging with Norah the few times it's been 40 or higher, but the large portion of January was so frigid that I barely wanted to step out of the house, let alone go somewhere at a jog. But I did take a couple of runs this month in the cold, and I'm kind of proud of myself. One run was so biting cold that I compared breathing to swallowing scoops of ice cream. Another one was so windy that it seemingly took me twice as long to run a normal distance because I felt like I was jogging in place. These weren't fun runs, and I think my memory has blurred the misery I was feeling at the time. But I'm still happy that I got out and got moving, which is miles ahead of what I was doing this time last year.
I wouldn't call myself a hardened winter jogger by any stretch of the imagination. Last Friday, my friend and I were complaining about it being so cold that once you set foot outside you couldn't get warm for the rest of the day. That very same day I saw a group of runners at lunchtime, jogging down the street just like any other day. I noticed, from my warm car and in my down jacket (and still feeling cold), that it was 20 degrees outside. With the wind chill it was probably under 10 degrees on the point where we were. Now that's just plain stupid. :o)
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