While I was out for my early morning run today, I seriously contemplated the possibility that I was going mad. I actually pondered out loud, to the bemusement of a pair of young men who were standing in a bus shelter. I was muttering about how I must be crazy to be doing this, and how normal people were tucked up in their nice warm beds at that hour of the day. Although to be honest, the hour of the day wasn’t bothering me as much as the God-awful weather I was trying to run in.
Since I got all serious about my running about a year ago, I have openly told people that I will run in any weather. And I will. The hot sun is not a deterrent as long as I am wearing a hat and keeping myself hydrated. Even though I am now Canadian, I am from Africa. I am a child of the sun. I don’t mind the rain – in fact, a light drizzle of rain during a run can be extremely comfortable and refreshing. Snow? No problem, as long as I watch my step and take care to avoid slipping. Even sub-zero temperatures will not deter me. I have good quality winter running gear. All things being equal, I prefer to run in clear, warm conditions, but that is certainly not a prerequisite to me hitting the road.
The hour of the day isn’t a big factor to me either. If I had my way, I would run at about ten in the morning. But since I have not yet made my millions publishing my first novel or won the lottery, I have to get to work in the mornings, so any weekday running is done either before or after work, or during lunch. My preference is before work because of all that feel-good stuff about starting the day with an accomplishment and not having the go through the day all tense about when I’ll get to go running.
So for today’s run, I dragged my sorry butt out of bed at 5:15 a.m. Because I didn’t think to look out of the window while I was getting dressed, I was completely oblivious to what was going on outside. As a result, when I stepped outside at 5:30 and beheld the dark and the mist and the rain, I was completely taken by surprise. No problem, I thought, as I quickly ducked back into the house to grab my running jacket. I set off on my way, and got halfway down the road before I realized that the rain was actually heavier than I had thought.
Still, it wasn’t too bad. I’m not scared of a little rain. It’s only water falling out of the sky. I maintained a fairly brisk pace for three kilometres, and despite the weather I quite enjoyed myself. During the last two kilometres, though, the weather abruptly changed. What had been a gentle breeze suddenly kicked up to a full-on wind that I was running straight into, and the rain really started pelting down. The temperature plummeted, and I realized that there were little bits of ice in the rain, hitting me in the face like lots of tiny hammers.
That is the point at which I asked myself if I was crazy.
You would think that these awful conditions would slow down my pace, but I actually kicked it up a notch. The faster I ran, the faster I would be able to get home and get inside. When I rounded the final corner, I sprinted home, and embraced the warmth of indoors. Looking at the run stats on my computer, I was not surprised to see that I had run the final kilometre in less than six minutes, such had been my desparation to get home.
Am I crazy? Probably. Will I run again in those conditions? Most definitely.
My name is Kirsten and I am a runnaholic!
