Well, fall arrived.
I’m not sure exactly when it happened, but it was at some point between 10:00 last night and 5:45 this morning. When I got home, it was comfortable outside in my t-shirt. This morning, my hands were still frozen after a mile warm up.
It was great.
I love the cold weather, particularly as a runner. Well, let me rephrase that. I love reasonable cold weather. When we moved to Texas from Chicago, one of the reasons was to escape the unreasonable cold of the north. By unreasonable, I mean negative double-digit wind chills. Unacceptable. Now, it dips into the 40s, and I’m ready for a hat and gloves.
This morning, I didn’t wear either of those. I stepped outside expecting the cool-but-still-pretty-warm air that I had left just seven hours earlier. Once I was out there, I didn’t want to go back in, waking up my wife and dogs in the process, so I just decided to fight through the air. I stand by this decision.
See, this morning was a speed work morning, and though my commitment to running has been embarrassingly lackluster the last few months, I still love to go fast. In cold air, you simply move faster, so I knew I was in for a good time. And sure, I couldn’t really feel my hands at the end of the workout, and I may or may not have slightly pulled a muscle in my leg. Whatever. These things happen. It didn’t change the fact that I ended my workout refreshed, excited, and ready for Monday to begin.
I haven’t felt any of those things in recent weeks.
So bring on the cold. I’ll enjoy it while it lasts. If I remember correctly, we’ve got about two weeks of fall, a month of winter, and then a slow-but-steady increase in temperature, culminating in a 90-degree March ahead.
For now, I’m going to break out my gloves.