From the "weather" category:
I really hate running on the track. It’s not the track. It’s a lovely track. Really. It’s the monotony of it. But with the weather is dipping into the minus thirty Celsius range and my race almost exactly a month away, training trumps the enjoyment factor. So I laced up and ran my laps yesterday morning, tracking fifty loops of the ribbon of red that traced through the fitness floor of the local community recreation centre. Ten kilomteres. And I kind feel a little lopsided now. Good thing they reverse the direction every day, because I’ve gotta go run seventy laps in the opposite direction today.
It’s been snowing for four days and according to the radio meteorologist, we’ve already broke the November snow record or the average or some other meaningless statistic. Either way, 30 cm (aka, a foot for you imperial folks!) Six rounds of shoveling. Two seasons-worth of hiding indoors and binge-watching “How I Met Your Mother” on Netflix. All I know is that that sidewalks are treacherous, shoveled or not, and my training is taking a cautious look out the window and wondering what’s the bigger risk: not running at all and losing a bit of my training… or running and risking a fall, sprain, twist, pull, slip, bout of pneumonia, or frostbitten toes. I think I’ll be going to the track to run indoors tonight.
I ran for the first time in over a week last night. After pausing for a confluence of Halloween and an out-of-country vacation, it added up an 8-day-break. I feel a bit guilty. I also feel a bit frosty: it snowed during that 8 days, I we went from mildly chilly to bitter-cold with icy sidewalks. To get back into things: four days of consecutive running to fractionally-simulate my goal races. 5 last night, 10 tonight, 14 on Saturday morning, and 29 on Sunday morning. How about a big sarcastic huzzah for the weekend, huh?
I don’t mind winter running, but it’s the transition BACK to it that sucks. According the the radio this morning the forecast for Sunday morning (just at the same time when my long runs start to get into those really daunting distances again) is a hair above zero degrees Celsius and snow. That’s right: Sunday’s looking to be twenty long kilometers through light flurries with a good chance of long pants, mitts, warms hats, and shoes with extra grip. That coffee at the end is going to taste extra good but I guess summer really is over. Next question: who’s coming with me?