We always warm up. Usually, after a mile, you don't even think about it. The cold melts away, and the run is serene. So why is it so damned hard to convince yourself of this when faced with the small digits on the wrong end of the thermometer?
The weather report Sunday was that we'd already missed the high for the day, which was 14 just after midnight. The Enthusiast and I had a long run to fit into our schedule. The sun was shining, which made it look warm, but we knew it most definitely was not. We had to convince ourselves that we'd only be cold for the first few minutes.
We decided to venture to Sand Run, a path that we hadn't run all year. Fresh snow and blue skies made the park area look beautiful, but the 12 degrees was just high enough not to be counted on our trembling fingers.
The multipurpose path was plowed, but still had a packed down layer of snow on top. The Enthusiast wore her YakTrax while I wore my trail shoes. We were both triple layered. Within the first mile, we saw the Martini coming back from a run, presumably more miles than degrees warm, as he's training for his first 50K race.
My new vest has impressed me so far. The snugger fit and windbreaker-like shell seems to keep me warmer than my old fleece vest. The ThermaJock is also performing admirably, keeping my junk nice and warm.
Once the chill dissipates, these winter runs can be quite thrilling. The brisk air and the stillness of the surround terrain. It's beautiful. This is the way it always is, but first we must win the inner argument that this is so.