It’s cold, it’s raining, there’s sleet, it’s dark. During summer I was dripping after a mile. The joys of all weather running.
But I know if I let the seasons dictate my running too much, there are many weeks I wouldn’t bother. So I’ve put a little strategy in place which I call the 3i’s or my three legitimate reasons for not running because it would be a little stupid to do so. Illness, injury or ice.
Illness speaks for itself. The injury bit is usually dictated by my physio who I know does everything he can to get me back to running. And ice, well, I don’t mean a bit of frost. It’s black ice which can metaphorically and literally be a pain in the butt.
The routine runs that really stick with me are those that make me laugh and often coincide with really silly weather. I remember one run home from work last winter. It was dark, bloody cold and there was sleet. I was about half way home when double decker bus passed me, the windows all steamed up. I spotted a few passengers looking at me, one of them with a look that suggested he thought I was insane. As the sleet stung my bare face like little needle pricks, I laughed. What other response is there?
So today, I headed off into torrential downpours. After all, what’s a little rain?