It was -20 Celsius when I woke up this morning. I might have whimpered, and my resolve to run was suddenly shaky. Still, I was hopeful that the temperature would rise a little as the day progressed, so I told myself that I would just run in the afternoon instead of first thing in the morning. Running later in the day is not my preference, although it is sometimes a decision born of necessity. Ironically, I am not a morning person, but I enjoy working and running early in the day.

I am not always very patient though. Despite my reluctance to go out in the cold, I was itching to get out and run. I know myself well enough to know that putting something off is dangerous and more likely to result in failure to get the task done. By 9:30 I was getting dressed in layers, hoping that I would be warm enough without being too warm. I laced up my shoes and stepped outside around 10:00. The temperature had warmed up to -15 Celsius.

It was an okay run. Normally I would have done a longer run today, but I decided that two kilometres was sufficient for such a cold day. My face was quite cold for the first half kilometre or so, and I had to shake my hands now and then to keep the blood circulating until they started generating their own heat. After the first kilometre I changed directions and enjoyed the sun and the breeze on my back. The run was easier than I had anticipated. When will I learn that the mental picture in my head is almost always worse than the reality?



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