Although… there was some doubt as I rounded the first half mile with the winds whipping around my bare face. I recalled that many of the previous days had been well below reasonable wind-chills. So be it, one mile would suffice.
Mid-way through the second mile, I had forgotten all about returning home early. My toes encased in nasty Adidas shoes and wool socks were now sweating as though they were still lodged under the three (no, six) blankets at home. My muscles were loose and I was beginning to think that running through the island park during the Bears vs. Packers game provided the best way to watch the game by not watching it at all.
While rounding the corners of downtown during the fourth mile, little signs started popping up to remind me of my foolish choice. I didn’t feel any pain but I could feel a tightening of the tendons in my ankle. At this point, I had no choice as I was already on course for the shortest path home. I would pay for wearing shoes, there was no doubt.
A few stomps into the side yard of snow marked the completion of the fifth mile. I was warmer than I had been before climbing out from under three layers (six) of faux Florida. My hair underneath the wool hat was drenched with perspiration and perseverance. At the moment, everything felt good.
That night though, I couldn’t walk. I hate those shoes. That may very well have been my last run outside until it is warm enough to wear my VFFs. (which should be just above freezing if the snow has melted away) Next year, I’m getting the right equipment. I can’t keep wishing for snow while simultaneously wishing it would warm up so that I can ditch the shoes.