Last weekend the temps soared out of the single digits to the solid mid-double digit range.
Time for an outdoor run.
(And yes, I am a baby. I despise sub-zero temps and ice slippage with its resultant injuries, so I will mostly run indoors in the winter).
I have actually run outdoors many times this year, just not in my hometown.
Because the weather here is generally terrible.
Last Sunday, I set out to change that.
The first run of the year is always – every 25+ years into the process – a bit of a culture shock.
There’s no streaming Netflix to watch, no clean towel to wipe away sweat, no convenient water fountain and no climate controlled temperature like on the treadmill at the gym.
And there’s wind, traffic, uneven sidewalks, and other unexpected obstacles.
But there’s also sunshine, lung-piercing fresh air, and (often) solitude, which is just the way I like it.
I also find that I generally run a lot faster outdoors than in; I feel like I get to let my natural pace take over and it’s usually more varied but overall quicker than any workout I’d set on the treadmill.
Bring it on, Spring.