Today's temperature reached a whopping 28 degrees Fahrenheit, more than warm enough for a jog through my idyllic snow-covered and slick suburban streets. Or something... I didn't get an hour in, more like 45 minutes, but still, I'm pleased with my 4.6 miles. It was a pretty glaring reminder, though, that I am very far behind in my training for this upcoming race. And whatever progress I made today I am currently eating away at with my Starbucks' milk chocolate graham cookies. Mmm, so good.
But the run wasn't great. For some fun reason, when I run in the cold, my nasal passages constrict and I cannot breathe through my nose at All. I dunno; it's just unpleasant. Maybe I'm a "fair-weather" runner, but I really do not like running outside in winter. My self-preservation instinct is considerably stronger than my desire to run. I read some article once explaining that our bodies are programmed to seek the easiest, safest route to the longest life. Running, especially distance running, places a tremendous amount of stress on our bodies. It isn't fun, and in the 21st century, it is no longer a necessity for survival. We impose powerful mental blocks against running, and when faced with the prospect of venturing outside into below-freezing temperatures wearing naught but a few thin layers of wicking fabric, it is almost physically impossible to get out the door. At least, this is what I've found. And getting out the door really is the hardest part. Once you've over come that block, once you've started to move and warm up and regain feeling in your toes, the endorphins kick in and it really isn't that bad.
Supposedly it takes three weeks to form a habit. Today was a good start. Tomorrow it is supposed to be snowing, but I've got a back up. I am taking my workout clothes with me to work, and I am going straight to the gym from work. That is the plan. The goal. To get to the gym. Once there, we'll see how long I can run for. Shooting for 35 minutes. Right. Less thinking; more running. Go.