I've gotten back into running. I haven't run since October or so. I quit because, well...I'm a sissy. I hate cold weather. I don't want to run in it.
So why am I running now? Well, when you're used to 80 degrees, and it drops down to 50, that is harsh. But when you're used to -8 weather, and suddenly it's 40--well, that is a heat wave. So three times a week, I've started running home. It's been nice...kind of.
Monday I went running and it was exhilarating. It was below freezing, but I had a tuque, I had my tunes, and I tore through the neighborhood like a cheetah--a cheetah in a cage being pulled in a red wagon, but still--it was great. It felt good.
Compare that today. I forgot my tuque which wasn't too bad, except for the fact that the wire on my iPhone iBuds freeze up, and when I bounce they come right out of my iEar iCanals. So I couldn't listen to Wait Wait Don't Tell Me. Instead all I heard was my lungs gasping for oxygen.
And then for some reason--and this gets a mite personal--my underwear was giving me a super-wedgie. I felt like I was a freshman in high school again (and a sophmore, and a junior). Every three steps I had to adjust my nether regions. All of this made me mad, and so I would run faster because the world is so unfair, and my running fast would teach the world a lesson, by golly. But actually all it did was make me more tired, and give me a wedgie--the likes of which have not been seen for a good decade. By the time I hit home, I was wiped.
I hope I have a better experience on Friday, or I may just take up parcheesi.