Technically, as a Canadian, it is not only my birthright but my patriotic responsibility to resolutely complain about the cold weather while simultaneously pulling on my wool socks and going outside to just deal with it.
I deal with it by running in it. And with the last week with its temperatures lurking in the -30 degree range (yes, that is a minus) this would usually trigger my wimp-out response and I’d just stay home and draw more comics.
But even as an adult there is this thing called peer pressure.
I text “….but it’s COLD!” and I get in reply “So… just 10 k then?”
I argue about the ice … and someone sends me an Amazon link for shoe spikes.
I steadfastly nudge and call out our mileages as I try to stick to the distance we agreed upon when we left the warmth of the run club… well, the comic speaks for itself.
Stay warm out there… unless you live somewhere warm, then … I got nothing.
It’s so hot outside that I saw a fire hydrant chasing a pack of dogs!
I hate to go on and on and on about the weather, but I actually ran myself into a nice case of heat stroke this past week and had a few sick days to show for it. Yuck. Stay cool.
The Girl has a mental block for my self-induced run pain. She saw me get dragged off to the medical tent after my first marathon (also heat related) and ever since then I’m either “just resting” or “about to die” after a long, tough workout. There is nothing in between. Zero. On the verge of breaking my mortal coil thanks to an hour of jogging… or whatever dad, let’s play.
It was closer to the former this past week. When we get hot here, we do it thoroughly.