What a difference a week makes.
Saturday, Feb. 13, dawned bright and cold. Frothy cold. Single-digit cold.
When we started running at 7:30 a.m., it was a mere 10 degrees. About two hours later, when we were finished running and back home, the temperature had zoomed all the way to 11 degrees.
So, what does this mean?
Well, 10 degrees is cold. Perhaps not as cold as the predicted 5 degrees, but pretty darn cold nonetheless. On the other hand, when it gets that far below freezing, another 5 degrees or so either way doesn’t mean a lot. Once it’s below, say, 15 degrees, the bitter details tend to be irrelevant.
But those temperature do mean some preparations.
When dressing, for instance, you have to take two things into consideration — how cold it is out now, and how cold you’re going to feel a few miles into the run.
So, on that Saturday, it took a while to get ready: two pairs of socks, one wool and one of a sweat-wicking fabric. This would keep my feet warm and dry. A pair of calf sleeves, which serves the dual purposes of keeping my lower legs warm, and keeping my calves from tightening up during a cold-weather run.
Then comes two pair of tights. On top, a quilted shirt, a T-shirt, and a hoodie — all made from wicking material, in an effort to keep warm and dry. A balaclava gets tucked into the neck of the shirt closest to my skin, and then the hoodie gets zipped over it.
Of course, some areas of my face remain uncovered, so a little vaseline gets wiped on those spots. Then I put on two pairs of gloves, slipping the thumbs through the thumb holes in my hoodie, ensuring full coverage all the way to the tips of my fingers.
Somewhere underneath all this is my watch and ID bracelet. My phone and a gel pack gets zipped into my waist pack, which is within some of the clothing layers. A key goes into the sleeve of my water bottle. And I am ready to go.
And you were told that all you need to run is a good pair of shoes, right?
So, what is it like running in sub-zero temps?
Well, it’s more difficult that you might imagine. For one thing, cold air is tough to breath. If you’re wearing a balaclava or ski-mask, then your breath fogs up your glasses. If you’re not, then your warm breath condenses on your face, which then freezes any hair that gets in the way — eyelashes, eyebrows, beards, and mustaches.
That water bottle you brought along? Because you didn’t want to mess with the coolers your group puts on the side of the road? Well, the pop top is frozen. And those water coolers? The spigots are frozen. So you have to open the coolers from the top and dip the paper cups into the water. Try doing that with gloves on.
Oh, by the way, your shoelace is untied. Try re-tying them with gloves on. Then take off your gloves to actually re-tie them.
Gotcha either way.
So, why do we do it?
Well, it’s fun, and you can brag about tough it is and how awesome you are.
“Use the cold as the catalyst to weed out the sane people,” said Matt Trenkamp of Independence. “Only then can the run get really interesting. The less others want to try, the easier it is to come in first.”
Before we started our run that cold Saturday, Craig “Wheels” Wheeler, a Tri State Running Co. coach, told us “the list to stay in bed is long.” So those who got out of a warm bed before dawn is a small number.
“It’s the pain of discipline or the pain of regret,” said Mark Gaskins of Taylor Mill, who is part of my running group. “So glad I ran.”
After the run, Richard Kruze of the Queen City Running Club sent this message out: “Hearty congratulations. You will long remember, appreciate and value today’s achievements, the conditions of the course, and the temperature. Well done.”
That’s why.
Of course, just a week later, conditions were a bit different.
Saturday, Feb. 20, dawned overcast and warm. At the start of the run, it was 50 degrees and windy. And damp.
So it was warm, and the dressing was easy: Shorts. A T-shirt. Socks. Shoes. One layer of each. That was pretty much it. The water bottles didn’t freeze. Neither did the exposed skin or hair.
Of course, that weather would have been more appreciated in the spring. In February, it seemed too much, too soon. Running felt heavy. Uncomfortable, even. The humidity made you sweat easy, and because it was mostly overcast and a hard wind was a-blowin’, you cooled down quickly — almost too quickly, sometimes giving you the chills.
But then the sun came out.
Still, for most of us, it was preferable to the previous week — if only judging by the far larger numbers of people who went for early morning run. The streets were crowded.
Heck, later in the afternoon, I saw a guy running up Dixie Highway, wearing just shorts and running shoes.
It was that kind of day.
Paul Long writes weekly for the NKyTribune about running and runners. For his daily running stories, follow him at dailymile.com or on Twitter @Pogue57