by Mark Johnson
I used to hate running in winter.
The prospect of leaving my home, where piles of blankets and a cushy recliner warmly beckoned, for streets where snow blew and cracked ice coated the pavement made it hard to find motivation to get my daily miles in.
I donned my black and blue Brooks, sweatshirt, and countless more warm layers. I struggled through the snow, counting pounds lost and miles run, hoping to condition my body for my more serious spring training months ahead when the snow melted.
I knew I had to defeat my dread toward these winter treks if I was to conquer my goals of running spring races. That meant buying the warmest—yet lightest—jackets and pants I could find, spikes to keep from slipping, and marathon entries to keep motivated.
Now, three years into serious running, I still cringe when I see the snow falling and temperatures plummeting. I wish it were summer. But part of me enjoys the challenge.
The cold still stings, but in a good way. It wakes me up, like a splash of cold water to my face in the morning.
And not much tastes better than a deep breath of cold winter air. It’s clean—the same as the frigid, pine-scented fresh air you would breathe while hiking a mountain range that seems to get ever more pure as you trek higher and higher.
A frigid run on a clear January morning offers more of a challenge than a sweaty early summer workout—I have to trudge through inches of snow and over hidden sheets of ice.
It’s not exactly fun.
But there’s no better feeling than finishing a bitter-cold workout, knowing I didn’t let burning winds and sheets of ice slow me down. That euphoria stays with me, and the rest of the day, I feel so refreshed.
I’m not going to let the unrelenting snow and stinging cold slow me down.
In fact, I can’t wait to conquer it again.
I used to hate running in winter.
The prospect of leaving my home, where piles of blankets and a cushy recliner warmly beckoned, for streets where snow blew and cracked ice coated the pavement made it hard to find motivation to get my daily miles in.
 |
| Getting those miles in before one of my favorite local trails gets covered in snow. |
I donned my black and blue Brooks, sweatshirt, and countless more warm layers. I struggled through the snow, counting pounds lost and miles run, hoping to condition my body for my more serious spring training months ahead when the snow melted.
I knew I had to defeat my dread toward these winter treks if I was to conquer my goals of running spring races. That meant buying the warmest—yet lightest—jackets and pants I could find, spikes to keep from slipping, and marathon entries to keep motivated.
Now, three years into serious running, I still cringe when I see the snow falling and temperatures plummeting. I wish it were summer. But part of me enjoys the challenge.
The cold still stings, but in a good way. It wakes me up, like a splash of cold water to my face in the morning.
 |
| It was a little cold, but not too bad for a run. Winter is definitely here. |
And not much tastes better than a deep breath of cold winter air. It’s clean—the same as the frigid, pine-scented fresh air you would breathe while hiking a mountain range that seems to get ever more pure as you trek higher and higher.
A frigid run on a clear January morning offers more of a challenge than a sweaty early summer workout—I have to trudge through inches of snow and over hidden sheets of ice.
It’s not exactly fun.
But there’s no better feeling than finishing a bitter-cold workout, knowing I didn’t let burning winds and sheets of ice slow me down. That euphoria stays with me, and the rest of the day, I feel so refreshed.
I’m not going to let the unrelenting snow and stinging cold slow me down.
In fact, I can’t wait to conquer it again.
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