December 10 What do we do when the weather turns REALLY FREAKING COLD? We hide in the house, stay in our pajamas until well after noon, play a lot of video games, do a few chores, poke at some of the leftover renovation tasks, paint a bit, read a bit, work on a jigsaw puzzle while we listen to the radio and drink hot coffee, and then curl up on the couch and fall asleep watching holiday movies. The thermometer dropped into the nearly minus thirty range, and the windchill made it essentially unbearable to even step outside to grab the newspaper. Tomorrow is supposed to be even worse: it makes me glad that I’m no longer training for a race… I might just sleep in.
The thing is this: when you wake up early on a Sunday morning, no matter how good your intentions, and you look at your phone to discover that the temperature is a balmy minus-twenty-five degrees (which feels like minus thirty-four when you count windchill factor) then you look long and hard at the reflection in the mirror and contemplate other options. Like, say, waiting until later, when the sun has warmed the air to something in, say, the minus-teens and you don’t necessarily need to question your own sanity at the prospect of running today. So, assuming nothing goes too far off the rails before lunchtime, this week’s Sunday run has been brought to you by the letters W and D… for Weather Delay.
Of course, mother nature, you’re going to make those last 40 klicks towards my annual goal cold, windy and very challenging, aren’t you?
The heat and I don’t get along. I was feeling a little guilty: the weather this week has been a little too hot (for me) to run. I don’t do below minus thirty and I don’t do over plus thirty on the opposite side. So for a couple weeks in January and a couple weeks in July or August, I deal with this guilty of hiding from the weather when I should be –would rather be– on the trails. My guilt got the better of me this evening and when the temperature dipped to a modest 28C after nine o’clock, I laced up and went out. My body objected. And after about three and a half klicks I packed it in and walked home. Hopefully the trails are a little cooler on Sunday morning!
Mine, hers… not her mother’s.
We sat out in the hot sun so that Claire could earn her participation checkmark on her first ever Highland Dance competition this morning. It was 32C and she was wearing wool. I roasted my feet and will have bagpipe music running through my dreams as I sleep tonight.
Sadly (but not unexpectedly as she only competed on a whim) she did not place.
Hot. Dry. Rainless.
I will admit that all this snow makes the prospect of a 20k run on Sunday a LOT daunting. #demotivation
a mash-up of mechanisms & nature
On the second day of February each year a vast cultural mechanism spins into gear as humanity pauses for a few minutes to celebrate the meteorological prognostication of a rodent. Groundhog day, according to various sources, traces its origins back to an odd sort of collision of culture, religion, dual calendar systems, and some pagan ritual mixed in for good measure. In modern incarnations, it involves a tongue-in-cheek reference on the morning radio to the various official shadow-spotters, and (if one is a true fan of the quasi-holiday) a re-watching of the Bill Murray feature film of the same name.
Predicting the weather (as the author has been not-so-subtly informed by personal conversations with actual human meteorologists) is hardly as simple as sky gazing. It continues to improve technologically, to be sure, with the expansion and use of vast satellite networks coupled to incredibly complex computer modeling systems harnessing the power of historical data and climate analysis. Yet, for all that technology, predicting the temperature a few days into the future is still mostly a blend of chance and educated guessing.
Ok, everyone… get shoveling. I have a half marathon group to lead and I need your sidewalks. #deepdeepsnow
This year: it was too short. It was -20C this morning!
Walk, run, take photos, sit in the hammock, drink beers, read, relax, and barbecue…