Originally posted on my other blog — Runner’s Notes
This is the view outside my office window right now:
The Lake Effect snow machine has kicked on and the wind is howling. The double-pane, wooden-sash windows in the old farmhouse I work in are rattling and the storm windows are rapidly beginning to ice over.
And I’m scheduled to run here in less than four hours.
Normally, this would inspire a lot of internal whining and dread, i.e., “I don’t want to run in this crap. This is going to suck. I hate winter. I don’t want toooooooo.”
And, truth be told, I did try to get out of it earlier today with a group text message to my running partners:
“Wow…weather looking nasty. If you ladies want to get it done earlier, I won’t be offended. Worried about keeping up with all of you today, anyway.”
They were having none of it and shut my lame excuses down quick. He**or high water (or gale-force snow), they’re coming, which means I’m going. So I just need to put on my big-girl panties, er, tights, and suck it up and get out there.
Any other week, this would lead me to think I need softer friends. The kind who bail at the first sign of rain or wind.
But, today, that nasty swirling snow and the prospect of running through it with my die-hard, bad-a** running girlfriends is making me kinda giddy because I have been sick for the last couple of days and there’s nothing like a whole-body-aching, couch-bound illness to make you truly appreciate your health and what your healthy body is capable of doing.
Running in this today is going to suck, no doubt. But it’s also going to be awesome because I can do it. Because no matter how much it blows out there tonight, it will never be worse than laying on the couch and feeling like crap for 24 hours.
I’m grateful it was only 24 hours and that feeling like that is something that only happens to me once every couple of years. I know there are people who live with chronic pain and illness day in and day out. Every day of their life is spent in a body that hurts. They’d probably give anything to run five miles in a snowstorm.
Today, I’m just thankful that I can.