Welcoming the Cold
Friday morning I woke up and I felt hot under the thick white comforter. I shoved the comforter off of me as I shut off the alarm. I lowered both my bare feet out of the bed and onto the wood floor and I quickly realized that winter had officially arrived. My apartment generally runs warm but the first sign of winter is always the cold floor. I never understood why but I always know the weather went from mildly cold to that bitter winter cold when I need to put socks or slippers on. I had to learn to run in the winter and the cold. It isn’t about technique so much as it is about knowing my capabilities. It doesn’t seem natural and there are a lot of mental blocks to doing it but the moment I step outside, I understand that the cold, like so many other things, is relative.
After feeling the cold floor and finding some slippers I checked my phone and the weather report corroborated the floor — “Feels like 26”. I made my coffee and my oatmeal and decided I would dress warmer because I was still adjusting to the cold. I dug a pair of running tights out of the closet and put on two layers of shirts. Winter running, especially at the beginning takes some motivation to muscle through the cold. There are a couple of more steps to getting ready in the morning versus any other season, trying to avoid overdressing and overheating. I wake up a little more creaky than I do during the summer. I hesitate a couple of more minutes before I go out, lingering for a few moments after my pushups and rolling out my calfs and ankles.
I took two steps outside and recognized the winter. It was the first time this year that it felt harsh and angry outside. The first time that I didn’t want to wait to start because the longer I was still, the more my feet and hands would go numb. The first couple of steps felt odd because my toes were, in fact, a little numb but about half a mile in the blood is flowing. At two miles when I am next to the East River, I can feel the wind hitting the sweat on my back. The park is so much more desolate in the winter. I see the usuals and the nods we give ourselves are with a little more respect, a little more admiration. By the time I got home everything was heated up except for my face. I stopped in the laundromat to pick up a load of laundry and when I went to exchange pleasantries with the woman behind the counter, I couldn’t get the words out correctly because the muscles in my mouth were slightly frozen. It is one of those small benefits of running that help you understand the subtleties of the word. The words people use to describe the winter and the cold, the silence that comes with it, maybe it is just because everything I can bring every other part of my body back to life but my mouth remains frozen.
On Saturday I had my final race of the year. A fifteen-kilometer race composed of two loops around Central Park. There is something about running in the cold in Central Park. It is so much different from running anywhere else. I wish could I could explain it better but it is like you are in the special bubble in the middle of New York City, like a huge snow globe. I feel the cold and the wind but it feels different and almost surreal. The familiar landmarks appear to change with the seasons. The cat near the Met seems to be a little blacker, the Balto Statue seems a little warmer, maybe because I like dogs more than cats. Races in the winter are different. Surrounded by people who share this uncommon obsession of running, who don’t just show up because of its fun and it’s a perfect day in June. Nine miles around Central Park is not a bucket list item or a social media landmark. The words come out of our mouths swearing not to run again in this weather but somehow we end right back there. Standing there motionless in freezing temperatures waiting for the sound of the starting horn. I think the sky looks different over Central Park. As if when they decided to leave the swath of trees and grass, God decided to protect the sky over that square from everything that surrounds it.
Today I procrastinated and finally went out at around 4:00 in the afternoon. The sun was still up but the six miles was going to keep me out until after sundown. Since it is also deep into the NFL season, the park was essentially empty except for a few stragglers. Midway through the run, the snow started falling. It wasn’t a surprise. The weather app on my phone had warned of “snow showers” . That is what I got today, still wind, cold air and gently falling speckles of snow. They were almost unnoticeable, except when headlights were in front of me I could see it steadily falling. Living in New York City, you rarely get real moments of solitude. Early in the morning, in the bathroom, maybe late at night on the subway, but in the end, you always feel somewhat surrounded. The winter gives you something different, especially during a run.
