Minus six degrees Celsius (21 degrees Fahrenheit) on a sunny Wednesday morning. Let’s go for a run! Covered like an onion in many layers I walk out, and I don’t think I’ve ever started running so quickly, partly to warm up, partly to try to get away from the cold. I was unsuccessful in the latter. Some moments it felt good, I almost felt warm, until the wind came by and cut through everything I was wearing and made me feel like a running naked dude in a park.
People walking their dogs stared at their dogs when I came by, as if to say ‘At least I have a reason’ and with the three other runners I saw there was an eye contact that said ‘no clue why we’re doing this, but it’s kinda nice, isn’t it?’.
Cold running, I don’t think it should be an Olympic sport. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to curl around my heater in foetus position and defrost.