Running in the Cold
I was running outside the other day and was reminded of one of my first serious runs I did back in college.
I had always been a poor runner in grade school, barely able to gasp enough air to make it a mile. I even tried to run only 3 out of the 4 laps when doing the mile test in middle school, though other kids ratted me out (darn those fit kids).
But in college I walked around a lot more than I did in suburban grade school, and I wanted to push myself more.
On a November night I ran barely 2 miles in a t-shirt and shorts. But I felt something wake up inside (no… not Evanescence). I felt something almost religious in that experience, something primal. I felt highly vulnerable, but also accomplished.
I felt the world was a tough place, but I could survive it.
Running
Running is my favorite form of exercise. Not because I like running itself, I think that part is pretty hit or miss.
Running is my best way of communing with my primal self. Whether a fighter running down his prey, or a prey fleeing for his life, a runner’s goal is survival.
I’ve done various forms of martial arts for short periods of time, like wrestling and karate, but they never tapped into what drives me like running.
Running can easily be adversarial, like in the fight or flight instances I mentioned, but “going for a run” is a different act. You are against yourself and your own mind. Trying to run faster, with more ease than you did last time. But in the back of your mind, you know you’re also sharpening the saw in case things go down and you need to escape. Or if things REALLY turn bad, and you need to chase down your next meal, some cardio will definitely help.
It’s also the easiest exercise to get into. Buy a decent pair of shoes and step outside your door.
The other thing that goes hand in hand with the running is your breath. You can feel it’s force the best in —
The Cold
I once saw a bull fight… Brutal and not at all romantic in my view. But I’ll never forget how the bull breathed when it first charged out. A force of nature, his breath was audible across the plaza de toros. You could see the air coming out of his nostrils in the setting sun.
In the cold, I imagine my breath like that raging bull, especially on a hard run. Visible life force shot out into the frigid air in the form of rapidly cooling water vapor. Your breath is a fire that keeps you alive in the cold.
The cold is weirdly good for us; it helps our largest organ, our skin, experience a stressor that can help things like sleep and healing.
But of course, the cold kills. Mere hours in subzero temperatures bring about the end of the fittest humans. Cold is not to be “tempered” with for long (hehe, yes I know it’s tampered).
A run in the cold hits two counts of survival. Your desire not to freeze, combined with your fight or flight response.
You against two unconquerable foes, the elements and yourself. So put on your shoes (or heck, barefoot?) and breathe like a raging bull into the cold abyss, one foot turning over the other.
