Busy busy busy lately. Lots of running, lots of work, lots of family, and little time for blogging. So instead of worrying about writing something witty and insightful, I'll just cut and paste an article I wrote for The Herald-Times a few weeks ago about running in the cold weather. The irony of the thing is that after this article was published I have since run twice on the treadmill. Honestly, though, for living in Indiana, twice on the treadmill in the winter is a pretty good record. I am looking forward to going to Houston on Friday to run in the U.S.A. Half Marathon Championship (on Sunday) with highs in the 60s and lows only in the 40s.
In other Bloomington running news, there was a woman attacked on the Rails to Trails just north of Country Club Road in late December. This really freaked me out, as well as lots of other female runners in town. The Women With Will group organized a "Take Back the Trail" walk/run yesterday and it was covered by the H-T in today's paper. I have run on the Rail Trail numerous times since the attack, but always with at least one other person. We have seen some creepy people out there in the past (in tents, with guns, sitting in the woods, etc.). Despite the horrible acts this woman had to endure, this event is a very good reminder to always be observant and to tell people when and where you are running if you have to go out alone. I am debating buying some mace to run with, but given my klutzy tendancies I am worried I will end up spraying myself with it accidentally and never actually using it, so we'll see...
Stay warm, stay alert, move forward, and stride on!
HeraldTimesOnline.com
COMMENTARYHoliday lights a bonus for running in a winter deep freeze
Many people tell me I am crazy for running as much as I do. So many people, in fact, that I am numb to the comments, as numb as my hands are after five minutes of running on a Midwestern winter day. Yet, during the long winter months and short winter days, these unsolicited mental health diagnoses become stronger and more frequent.
“Are you insane?” is a frequent one, along with, “that cannot possibly be a good idea,” especially when the wind chill dips into the single digits. I was not born with any extra insulation, so no, I do not enjoy freezing my backside off (and often the front too, depending on which direction the wind is blowing).
But the endorphins win out over the goose bumps nearly every time. As for now, the advantages of living in the Midwest outweigh the sugarplums and fairy tales that dance in my head and whisper about these magnificent places where people don’t have to put on three shirts and two pairs of gloves to run outside.
Besides, there is no better way to take a tour of holiday lights through Bloomington than in the self-propelled bipedal fashion.
Ever since I was little, I loved Christmas lights. It is likely genetic. My dad puts so many Christmas lights in and around our three-bedroom single-story ranch in West Lafayette that I am surprised the city council has not made a new sign ordinance to address the issue (and the drain on the local electricity grid). Running is a great way to fulfill my desire for multicolored plastic glowing bulbs, while not having to endure the effort of hanging any up myself.
When my poor pops plugged in the dozen strands of lights he had left on the outdoor trees from last year (anything to save time and money), it was a terribly disappointing display.
Only a few puny strands emitted their Christmas spirit for all the neighborhood to see. Alas, if the Indiana climate proves too harsh for outdoor “weatherproof” light bulbs, why would any sane individual run through it?
After a recent onslaught of claims of insanity due to my outdoor habit of perpetual forward motion, I became slightly less numb to them and entertained the notion of their merit.
Yes, perhaps the treadmill is not the evil machine I remembered it to be. How could it be, if the machines at the YMCA are always jam-packed when I glance at the cardio section on my way to anywhere else but the large belts of monotony?
So I packed my gym bag with only shorts and a T-shirt one recent frigid December day, knowing that would force me to run inside. I even uploaded a new peppy play list of music to my iPod, as I noticed even the retired men at the Y wear iPods in the cardio section.
I may be an experienced runner, but I consider treadmilling a different sport (much like baseball vs. cricket — baseball can take an agonizingly long time, but the matches do not last for days as its English predecessor can), and was taking any social cues I could get.
After four miles on the treadmill (on a normal day I will run between eight and 16 miles), I ripped the earbuds out of my ears, grabbed my water bottle and walked away from the black master of boredom dazed, confused and abnormally sweaty. I decided running outside with the change of scenery, even in the cold, was better than the treadmill.
Once I stepped out the door, though, a blast of wind changed my mind, and I trudged back toward the human version of a hamster wheel.
I did finish my run inside that dreary day, but I also determined that I am not necessarily the crazy one for running outside.
The crisp cool air in my lungs may sting, but it reminds me I am alive, and I find it a better stinging then the sweat in my eyes after five minutes on a treadmill.
The harsh wind outside may cause every exposed piece of epidermis on my body to cringe, but even in the dark, there is a sense of accomplishment for having survived the elements.
Crazy, insane, nuts — you pick the adjective, but while you are deciding on one, I will bundle up and head out the door. I have got Christmas lights to scope out and miles to log.
