First, I haven't had to pick up a shovel since last April. While my body appreciates this, the strength and tone of my arms, legs, and back are definitely lacking. By this time last year, I had lifted somewhere in the area of 2,500 pounds of flaky white deliciousness, shoveling the driveway about 29 times (uphill, both ways...).
Another advantage of not having snow is that the biking (and dry-top running) season has been significantly lengthened in comparison to previous years. No ice on the roads means road biking in the middle of December. No hard-packed snow means no slips, twisted knees or banged-up fannies during a run.
A snow-less Christmas does, however, make one thing more difficult: coming up with excuses NOT to run... you know, in case the gluttonous holiday feasts and alcohol weren't reasons enough!
Allow me, for a moment, to spin a back-story...
In 2007, my brother - an avid and superior cyclist (see previous posts) - decided to come along on a run with me. It was, at the time, an olive branch of sorts. We had had a friendly holiday spat about one thing or another, and he was determined to make sure that there was no bad blood between us (always the peace-maker, that one).
After the heated debate, I was ready to burn up my lungs with a little crisp, winter air. So I suited up in my cold-weather running gear: tights, several layers of moisture-wicking shirts, a sporty headband, and lightweight, fancy-shmancy gloves. As I was strapping on the final piece of my ensemble, a pair of YakTrax, my brother surprised me by meeting me in the entryway, clad in ski pants, and toque, a heavy cotton sweatshirt, and some old snowmobile mitts.
"Mind if I come with?"
I almost laughed out loud at the thought: my brother, Old Glass-Knees, the cycler-superior of the family, was offering an olive branch by putting himself through an unreasonable and certainly unbearable amount of pain, just to make sure that things between us were copacetic.
I stammered a shocked, "uh... really? I... I mean... sure! Hell yea!"
And thus began a Christmas tradition: The Vermullen 5k.
Back to the snow-less Christmas.
Now, before I continue, let me say that in no way was I ever thinking about breaking tradition. However, just moments after both of my nieces were put down for their naps, I plopped down in my Dad's comfortable recliner, ready to enjoy a chapter or two of my current novel, my brother skips into the living room, full of P & V.
"You think it would be ridiculous to run today?"
This time, much like in 2007, I did little to conceal my surprise.
"Um, yea, Scotty. It would."
"Wanna go anyway?"
To put my brother's question and follow-up question into perspective, please see the weather forecast for Escanaba for Tuesday, December 27, 2011:
Temp: 25°F
Feels Like: 11°F
...not that big of a deal, given my high-tech, fancy-schmancy running gear
Wind: From the North at 25mph; gusting to 40mph
... a big deal, since the first mile or so of our annual 5k heads straight into the teeth of the gale.
I set my book down, in utter amazement and disgust - though at this point, I don't know why I was amazed by my brother's proposition (again, see previous posts). I stormed - quietly, my nieces were still asleep - out of the living room to grab my gear. I suited up in the bedroom, sulking, cursing under my breath. "Make me run in a hurricane... Can't wait ONE day 'til the wind's not blowing 50 miles an hour... Christmas 5k: BAH HUMBUG!"
By the time my shoes were on, however, my rancor had ebbed a bit. Scott was eagerly awaiting me, clad - once again - in snowpants, a toque, and the same, heavy cotton sweatshirt from 2007 (you should see his t-shirt collection).
We stepped outside, and it was cold. Really cold. After a brief westward stint, we headed directly into the wind. The breath was ripped from our lungs before the blood could grab enough oxygen. We leaned into the maelstrom, steadily digging northward, as it tried to stand us upright and blow us over. I could feel knives ripping through the multiple layers of high-tech running gear. But for some reason, I wasn't cold. I wasn't whining. I wasn't angry.It was Christmas. It was our annual 5k. It was with my brother.
Happy Holidays, Bro! Thanks for the push.
