The Little Potato on My Shoulder

These last few days I've had a hard time feeling motivated to run outside and deterred from going to the gym by the 30 minute-round trip drive time (it's such a production to get out the door sometimes). Friday was brutal. With the windchill it was well below freezing, probably somewhere in the teens, the skin on my face suffered along with a few fingers and toes. Tuesday wasn't much better, cold, just not as cold as Friday. The only redeeming quality to those runs was the fact that I was even out there.

It's days like these when the thought of running in a tank top and shorts seems completely foreign--like it could never possibly get 'that' warm again. This is the part of winter running that I don't like. The part after the first of the year, in February and March when you feel so ready for the snow to melt, for the days to stay lighter longer, for things to turn green, but the reality is there are really two more months of winter and that kind of weather won't really come 'till the end of April.

Which makes it all so much easier to stay inside: it's going to be like this for two more months. It has taken quite a bit of persuading to get me out there these past few days--see a couch-potato on one shoulder and a little runner on the other, whispering into my ear to go or not to go. It seems like lately the little couch-potato has been much more persuasive, aided by the not-so-runner-friendly temperatures and the fact that I need someone to watch Sophie while I go out. At least with the warmer temperatures I will be able to take her with me. Which I'm sure will be a whole new experience of blog-worthy anecdotes.

But until then I have two choices: a) suck it up, bundle up and run outside or b) succumb to the gym and the boredom of the treadmill. If I want to keep my love of running alive I think "a" would be the better choice; so I better stop listening to the little potato on my shoulder.