While oil-industry-sponsored scientists are hopelessly
trying to find a single piece of evidence supporting the "global warming"
theory, New Englanders have been enjoying uncharacteristically warm beginning
of the winter (and for overly educated pundits - I mean climatological definition of winter,
rather than the astronomical one).
It is December 1st, which feels a lot more like April 1st. Most Bostonians are using this Saturday morning for Christmas-tree shopping, but instead I am driving to Terry’s house for our weekly long run. I arrive as Terry is facing a dilemma of wearing a singlet vs. running shirtless. He eventually decides not to shock the neighbors and goes with a conservative “family-man” option of a flimsy singlet, but I realize that my T-shirt is a textbook case of being overdressed. We start jogging and immediately work up a sweat – the summer kind of sweat. As we hit the trails, we are joined by Scott, and the discussion naturally revolves around - what else - weather.
By this time of the year Terry is normally well into the
beginning of the cross-country skiing season, but so far he was forced to do
all of his "skiing" on rollers - due to the lack of a major component somewhat crucial
for successful skiing – snow. And because of his recent knee
injuries, Scott has converted to snowshoe trekking during the winter months - a
low-impact alternative to pounding the pavement. Needless to
say - he didn't get to enjoy a single snowshoeing weekend so far either.
As we continue running, I keep wiping sweat off of my forehead. This whole thing is getting a little ridiculous. Is this mother nature's idea of a bad joke? If I really wanted to train through the winter wearing only shorts and a t-shirt, I'd move to Florida, or even worse - California. But then I wouldn't get to enjoy little perks you can only experience during New England winter - like running on the edge of the icy road, dashing through the piles of dirty snow, hoping that the angry motorist behind the wheel of that SUV coming from the other side is not too distracted by his cell phone conversation or a styrofoam cup of Dunkin Donuts coffee to notice you through a narrow embrasure of frost-free windshield he graciously bothered to clean with the ice-scraper before resorting to the safety and comfort of his 5000lb steel cage on wheels. Or the complete loss of feeling in your toes and fingertips at the end of the long run - not to mention chapped lips, congested nose, frozen ears and teary eyes. I wouldn't trade these precious memories for all the gold in the world!
And what about all the jackets, pants, hats and gloves collecting dust in my closet - or a drawer full of long-sleeve t-shirts - trophies accumulated from all those races I did over the past couple of years. All this gear which is supposed to keep me motivated and warm during the winter - now a useless pile of garbage. Some people (not me, of course) might even own a treadmill, a.k.a. “dreadmill”, which they acquired with a sole purpose of being able to stay in shape during dark and cold winter months. I am not even going to discuss Terry's skis and Scott's snowshoes – which might as well be used as firewood – except who would start a fireplace when it’s 72 degrees out?
As a representative of generation-X - well, at least age-wise -
generation eXpected to be obsessed about everything "X" - from Ford
eXplorers and Nissan Xterras, to X-files and X-Games, I used to consider running a solid mileage
base throughout the tough and unpredictably capricious Boston winter as the
eXtreme appeal of the sport - the secret training component that gave the eXtra edge
to the likes of Rodgers and Salazar, Jennings and Samuelson. I recently spotted a GBTC runner
sporting a T-shirt which read “"Somewhere there's a nice, sunny place with warm breezes and
shady palms where all the second-place guys train". With the winter
we've been having so far, I might as well take up golf to satisfy my "eXtreme sports" ego.
Perhaps Terry will be able to get some skiing while visiting
relatives in Wisconsin, and Scott will snowshoe through Sierras while on his business
trip to Reno. But the rest of us would just have to suck it up and get on with it.
And if it means we have
to put on shorts and a t-shirt and go running in this ridiculously warm weather -
so be it. After all - we are runners, we are tough, and
we can handle anything. Even summer-like weather in the middle of December.
