Last winter I made a concerted effort to run every single run outside, rain or snow or ice. I did a month long running streak and spent plenty of icy evenings after work, headlamp strapped over my winter cap, reflective vest, mittens, slipping over the frozen snow. I dug it. It was something new, a challenge.
This winter? I feel so over it already.
I ran on the treadmill for the first time in my life yesterday. Dragging Ky to the gym with me took about 80% of my energy and the 20% I had left was good for 6 really, REALLY boring miles. Ky's face popping up in the mirror behind me, trying to catch my eye to sign "can we leeeeeeave???" and me looking anywhere but at that place in the mirror, toughing out my whopping 7 miles per hour, realizing my running clothes have a kind of perma-smell that I never notice when I'm running outside, wishing I hadn't forgotten my bottle of water, wondering why the woman on the treadmill next to me looked so much more graceful than me. Good times.
I'm now reclining with my coffee wondering if today's run is better served by 2 foot snow drifts and frozen sidewalks or the boring, stinky, dry treadmill.
I think I'm going for the snow and ice.