Day 341 - Nard Guard (TM)

If necessity is the mother of invention, fear of one's man-parts freezing and falling off is a close cousin.

After last night's frozen misadventure, I was determined to take advantage of the relatively warmer temperatures at lunchtime, and the bonus of the mood lifting sunshine. But all the determination in the world can't take me back in time, back to this morning when I packed my running bag with everything I needed except winter running briefs, or shorts, or anything to keep the twig and berries nestled close to the body where the heat is.

It was really cold (13F) and the wind chill was colder (3F). I had tights, good tights, but not arctic tights. That kind of cold whips right through regular tights. Anything dangling is going to get really cold, really fast.

I didn't want to postpone the run and be left with a run in the dark like last night. Something about the dark makes it feel even colder.

Short a pair of shorts, I scanned my office for something to act in their place. A "third sock" is a useful substitute, but I didn't have one. I've used a spare glove or an extra hat before, but I didn't have either of those, either. A colleague did have a hat, one he left unattended on his desk, but even I have boundaries. I found a T-shirt that I'd been given on my first day of work, but that would be too bulky to be workable. And, though it rarely stops me, I would look ridiculous. You know, with a T-shirt shoved down the front of my tights.

I needed something lightweight, appropriately sized.... Hmmmm.....

Bingo!

The can coozie. Of course! Neoprene is windproof. Size is workable.

What? No, I didn't wear it like that. That would be silly. It folds flat.

See, folds flat.

So yes, I geared up and shoved the coozie down my pants, and headed out into the cold.

I was pleasantly surprised how well it worked. Big Jim and the twins were well protected. So well protected that after a mile, I pulled it out.

What!? No! The coozie... I pulled the coozie out. Come on, this is a family blog...

Anyway, noticing that things were all warm down there, I removed the coozie. After just a couple tenths of a mile, it was apparent just how well my impromptu junk shield had been working. I put it back.

Once things got back to room temperature, I felt good enough to pick up the pace a bit, which was fun. Except for the fact that as I went faster, my new invention started to migrate south, down my leg, leaving Larry, Daryl, and Daryl vulnerable to the wind chill, AKA nature's Lorena Bobbitt.

Here's where the genius of the coozie as johnson protector becomes apparent.

In order for the coozie to form a cylinder when it's "fluffed up", when the coozie's flat the bottom forms a sort of keystone. And those notches were perfect anchor points for the drawstring in my tights.

Ta-dahhh. No more sliding south. Twice wrapped for security and the coozie hung in place like a hidden loincloth.

Eat it, MacGyver.

Almost giddy, I trotted back to the office, bummed that, because of a 1:00p meeting,  I couldn't go farther.

So goes the story of the invention of the combination Can Coozie/Nard Guard. Though really, once you go Nard Guard, I wouldn't go back to coozie.

Good running,
Doug

Numbers: 2.3 miles around the business park, quite comfortably

Day 340 - Cold + Wind = Trouble

I have been an all-season outdoor runner for over 15 years.

I have very good gear, and an excellent sense for what to wear for virtually any conditions.

But today, I blew it.

I'd packed for a lunch run, under sunny skies, with calm winds. That didn't happen, so I squeezed in a run after work.

Problem is, I hadn't reassessed the weather. I had no appreciation for how cold it was. Nor how windy it was.

Note: If you have a chance to run when it's sunny and calm and you live in the Midwest and the sky is clear and a big tongue of Canadian air is coming your way, run in the sunny calm, because in the evening, all of the heat will get sucked into the vacuum of space and the wind will blow your face off.

So went my evening micro run.

As I started, nestled in the protective bosom of the trees on my street, I was feeling pretty good and was thinking I could squeeze in at least a 5K before boyfriendly duties called. But at the end of the block, I turned into the wind, the very breath of Snow Miser. My cheeks went numb, instantaneously.

The temperature was 14F, which I was prepared for, but the wind...  the wind was at least 20mph.

I couldn't take more than half a mile of that feeling robbing, soul sucking, manhood shrinking, nard retracting, bitter, cold, wind. Luckily, that half mile got me to the woods, where I found some relief from the shelter of more trees. It was enough to make up for the cold snow on my feet.

Turning toward home, even with the wind at my back, 3 of my fingers on my left hand, my dog leash hand, were numb. Yet they also hurt like hell. And this is with gloves on. The dog was unfazed.

As short as the run was, I was never so glad to be back home. My toes were frozen. My left hand aching. The rest of me was just getting warmed up. Most of me was ready to run more, but you kinda need unanimous consent.

Wind is easy. Cold is bearable. Put the two together, and you have trouble, and it comes in a hurry. Mind your extremities by adding a layer and seek the shelter of a trail to cut down on the wind. If you get behind, if parts start to freeze, don't be a hero, get home and get warm.

All things considered, it was still better than a treadmill.

Good running,
Doug

Numbers: 1.4 frigid miles, and I couldn't have done another 1/10th.

Day 339 - Brownies

There are few things I enjoy more than a good brownie. And right behind brownies comes brownie batter. Obviously, making my own brownies kills two birds, deliciously.

A brownie is about 110 calories, according to the box. Of course, the box also says that there are 20 servings in the pan. Even if I were certain I'd break out into hives and acne and violent flatulence if I ate more that one "serving", there's no way I could stop at 1/20th of what I pulled out of the oven a couple hours ago. So let's say 220 calories per (heavenly) square.

For most people, that's 2 miles.

Run or walk 2 miles for every brownie, and you break even, calorie-wise. Karma-wise, you are wuh-hay ahead.

I suggest running, then brownies, carrot-before-the-horse style. Plus, you know how many brownies you can eat guilt free. And in my case, how many miles I need to run tomorrow to catch up.

Good running,
Doug

Numbers: 3.0 miles on slippery streets and sidewalks.

Day 338 - Fresh Snow

At the risk of contradicting myself, and just a couple days after my wind chill induced anti-winter rant, I'm going to admit that a run on a windless winter morning on fresh snow is one of the great pleasures of the life of a Midwestern biped.

In general, I'm still against cold weather, but the beauty, and remarkable deadening of every sound, make a snowy run a special treat. When conditions are perfect, all you can hear is your own breathing and the rhythmic unmistakable crunch of the snow compressing under your feet.

Slushy, car trodden roads don't cut it. One needs more or less virgin snow. And being first in after a respectable snowfall is the absolute best.

Hence my disappointment when I found two pair of tracks on my trail, one human, one canine. I guess to be precise, there were three pair, two of which came from the dog.

Undaunted, and only marginally crestfallen, my dog and I proceeded to double up those tracks.

With the leaves long gone from the trees, the trail's been looking a bare... thin... a little too much like the top of my head. But stick a little snow on the limbs, a little more on the trunks, and presto, you have a distinguishing salt-and-pepper look.

Hey trail, you look... different. Have you been working out?

Though my fingers were on their way to numb, and my toes were already there, I wanted to try a new photography app that is supposed to make for "stunning" panoramic images. (Just what I've been looking for!) A peaceful, snowy trail would make the perfect setting...

... if the app could match up the brightness levels. Meh... the quest continues.

Winter running can be a challenge. Even with all the best gear, and with fresh snow to mush through, you still gotta step outside, in the cold.

The good news is, as soon as you take that first step, you'll start to warm up, and soon you forget that it's cold. And that lasts until the last step of the run, when you can't wait to get inside. The part in between is as good as any run on a beach.

Ok, almost as good.

Gear up, buck up, and head out. You'll be glad you did it. And you'll impress the hell out of your neighbors.

Good running,
Doug

Numbers: 1.4 miles on snowy streets and trail... heels were super tender, so took it short and slow.

Day 337 - BSV infection

I've been infected by a vicious virus. The Blister in the Sun virus (BSV).

I don't think it's a threat to the streak. But my sanity is definitely at risk.

I was exposed watching what I'd assumed was an innocent family year-in-review video. Two-thirds of the way through, the scored changed unexpectedly to Violent Femmes. There was no warning, I didn't see it coming. There was no chance of avoiding exposure.

It's been 8 days now and the song is still trapped in my head... playing over, and over, and over.

I've been caught unknowingly humming, or outright singing it, dozens of times. That's the virus trying to spread.

I've tried listening to the song. Singing it, on purpose, after ensuring that no one else was within earshot and at risk of infection. I've read the lyrics.* I've even tried to substitute the song with other virally infectious songs.

Unfortunately there is no antidote for BSV. I'll just have to let it run its course.

BEWARE: Hazardous Material

Do not watch if you are not naturally immune.

Good running,
Doug

*It's not about what most people think it's about. It's actually from the point of view/voice of a girl who the singer liked, but who dismissed him because he had small hands.

Numbers: 1.7 miles around the neighborhood in the dark while the kids devoured the pizza.

Day 336 - Shrug and move on

Some runs are perfect. Most are pretty good. Some suck for reasons beyond your control. And sometimes, it's your fault.

But one of the beauties of running is that even a horrible run ends. And even the worst run is better than no run. As soon as the run is over, it's over. Tomorrow you can have a brand new run, a chance to redeem yourself. Or just to forget.

It would be great if the rest of life were so forgiving, right? Instead, our real-life mistakes follow us around. They stand next you, testament to your weaknesses, or ignorance, or laziness, or plain poor decision making.

How great would it be to end a bad day the same way you end a bad run. A shrug. A shower. A solemn promise to yourself not to make THAT mistake again.

Well, here's the thing. You can do that. You don't have to beat yourself up over your f'ups. Just like the run, it's over and in the books. It's too late to go out slower, or push the hill harder, or start your finish kick sooner.

And it's too late to listen to that voicemail you ignored. You had your chance, but you aren't going to finish the document on time. You can't go back in time and do that thing you were supposed to do before you left work. The fight happened, you can't take back what you said.

Life isn't a spreadsheet. You can't undo. But also, no one's keeping a running total. No one but, maybe, you.

Don't drag your past around. Shrug, be honest with yourself, try to make amends and/or apologize if appropriate, promise yourself to try to do better, and, if you need to, take a shower.

Good running,

Doug

Numbers: 3.4 miles on asphalt.

Day 335 - Snow... great.

Today, "it" arrived.

Cold, and gray, and windy, and it snowed. Yip.... eee.

Someone actually had the gaul to say to me "Snow just makes me... happy!" And I'm not making that up. Including the exclamation point. I wanted to hurt that person.

This season is vicious. The cold and the wind tear at your soul and your flesh, like Wolverine... while he's PMS-ing. Wait... eh, never mind, you get the idea.

I'll slash at any exposed skin, and make it dry, and chapped!

For the runner, it means we gear up, and buck up, and try not to fall on our ass.

I think Ali, runner and friend of the blog, said it best in her spot-on Facebook post this morning...

Good running,
Doug

Numbers: 1.8 miles, a frosty, early morning warm-up for my stretching appointment.