Winter running. It's about the clothes baby!

Sunday December 12th. The eve of my son's sixteenth birthday, myself recently turned forty-six. The temperature outside is dropping, fast and the forecast is for a deep freeze. Not just a cooler-than-normal day, but a plunge. A huge swell of cool air is heading towards Ontario, a gift from the mid-west, clarifying the air in it's path and leaving a wake of polished, numb stillness.

I can hear the wind howling outside, the entire house seems to be shaking, the rafters creaking, reminds me of that scene from the movie Twister. The scene where the father at the start of the movie secures his family in the bunker only to be sucked outside by the cyclone.

I peek outside the window and I can see that the snow is drifting in. The trees are waving wildly, leaves blowing everywhere, the asphalt from the road glistening with wetness.

I'm worried that I won't be able to do my celebratory run. Since I can't be with my son on his birthday, at least I should run, in honour of this day. My happy birthday greeting. But I know how treacherous winter running is. It's not the cold, it's the frozen, slippery side walk. Doesn't matter how gingerly you step, a micro degree where your centre of gravity is shifted mere micrometres could be hazardous. And I know what that is. I've fallen in slick weather before. It happens really quickly. At first you're moving very cautiously, staring intently at the ground in front of you, watching for black areas which could indicate the presence of ice. You're even tentative on snow since there could be a slippery layer under it. But you keep moving on cautiously and you gain confidence. And it's at that point when you're no longer concentrating that it happens. All the while you've been congratulating yourself on how well you're doing. The run's going well and there was no need to be scared. It happens quickly and there's no proper way to behave when you have no legs under you. Flailing, or flapping your arms in an attempt to stay upright won't help. You're not a bird. It doesn't take a second, but you remember every movement later, as though in slow motion.

They tell you to fall naturally. I've never understood what that meant. There's no way to fall naturally. Falling is an unnatural thing. Fighting the fall and stiffening will only make the consequences worse. But it's like a gag effect when something foreign reaches the back of your throat. Or a sneeze when you're nose is tickled. You can't help it. So you will flap your hands and inevitably land very hard on the ground. When I fell, I landed on my back. My left arm tried to break the fall by reaching down, but my elbow connected the concrete pavement at a spot devoid of ice sparing that side of me from smashing down. My head wasn't so lucky. I hit the pavement with the back of my head and I think it bounced up and then down again. For a moment, my vision disappeared and in the blackness I saw stars. Twinkling stars which faded as my vision returned. It was very early that morning and the sun was rising, so the sky was blue with cumulus clouds dotted here and there. There wasn't a single sound at all and I was deaf to the world. But soon, my hearing returned. It was like the audience had realised that the show was over and tentatively, one by one, the applause starts. I could now hear the wind, the traffic and my breathing. I got up slowly listening and feeling my movement. I seemed OK. There was a tear in the left elbow of my jacket where I'd landed hard, and at the back of my head the start of a bump. I felt the back of my head pressing gently trying to feel if I'd broken anything. I don't know what I was looking for. A fracture? I walked a couple of paces and then slowly returned to a jog. I was still ten minutes, or so, away from my home and walking wasn't an option. Walking would take close to half an hour.

That was then. It was a bad day, really cold. I'd run most of the worst, iciest stretches very carefully. Some parts were walked since there was no way to control my body over a sheet of ice. I remember that even though it was close to minus thirty Celsius, I really didn't feel cold. It's not that I was preoccupied with the ice, but I wore the right clothes, not heavy winter garb, but a runners, thin, thermal, breathing running top with a wind breaker.

And so, as I contemplated if I'd run on my son's birthday, I knew that the answer would be a resounding yes. Only the forces of Armageddon would stop this run. A snowstorm coupled with an alien invasion might also stop me from going out, but not the cold. I was lucky that morning. I got up to minus twenty-six with wind chill. The side-walks were slick but enough dense snow cover to give a good running surface. It wasn't difficult. I wore three layers on top. A very thin thermal running under-shirt, good for wicking sweat away from the body. A second light thermal shirt for comfort and finally a wind breaker. I had my sub thirty below running pants. On my head I wore my running mask that covers my neck but on top of that, to cover my skull, I wore a running skull cap. I had on some warm running gloves. I've heard that in this kind of weather, mittens are better, but I've never had the time to buy any. In any case, I'd be outside for an hour and fifteen minutes, and the gloves would hold out.

And the run proceeded very well. The finish home was absolutely fantastic with my body getting stronger at each step.

Happy birthday son! May you live see a thousand suns and your life touch those around you as you've touched mine.