Why we do it

As everyone is no doubt aware, New York was blanketed by snow yesterday. This followed several days of snowy weather in DC, Pennsylvania, and New Jersey and, in the opinion of one Canadian girl, a laughable inability in these areas to cope with a bit of the white stuff. As my brother appropriately asked me yesterday, “I heard that NY shut down cause of snow. What kind of snow do you guys get there? Are there three foot snowflakes that weigh 40 pounds each?”

To be fair, yesterday did bring a considerable dump of snow (with icy cold winds to boot) in only twelve hours. The snow began falling in Manhattan just before sunrise, right as Zdenek and I were getting ready to head out for our run. Because of the media build-up to this “severe winter storm,” we were amused to see only an inch of snow on the ground when we rolled out of bed. We almost decided to go ahead with our scheduled 10 mile tempo; only because we weren’t sure whether we’d have adequate time did we opt for a five mile run instead (reserving the 10 miler for today). And it’s probably a good thing we did.

By the time we got to the park 30 minutes later, it was almost impossible to run. The snow/ice/rain was coming down hard, and I could barely open my eyes facing into the wind. The roads were covered in icy slush, making it impossible to do anything more than a very easy run. (God bless the Central Park crew who were already out there, salting the roads and plowing the snow as fast as it was falling. It is no lie that Central Park is home to the most well maintained six miles of asphalt anywhere.) It was one of those mornings that made me ask myself, Why am I doing this again? I could be at home with a steaming cup of coffee right now or, better yet, still in bed. Passing one lone runner in a green sweatshirt on the West side, we asked him (rhetorically), “How are you enjoying this run?” “Great!” he replied, much too enthusiastically. “This is why we do it!”

This is why we do it? Really!? We run because of the snow and sleet and wind and rain? Perhaps we run in spite of those things, but definitely not because of them. I’ll admit, a tough run through terrible conditions is a sure way to make me feel like a hero, but I’ll take sunny days and calm winds any day over the satisfaction from triumphing over adverse conditions. What in the world was that man thinking? I can only conclude that the ice pellets hammering his head had left him in a temporary state of delirium.

This morning, we awoke at 5:30 am to the sound of our pre-programmed coffee machine (so “very suburban” of me, as one of my coworkers recently mocked) and soon made it to the door to face our ten mile tempo. Outside, the winds were absolutely howling on our little corner of the UWS, and I opened the door only a crack before quickly shutting it again. Zdenek muttered something about “going back to bed” and then commanded, “Just open the door! You’re psyching me out!” And off we went, onto our icy, uneven, ankle-twist-inducing sidewalk and through the empty streets in the pre-dawn light. It was slow-going.

But upon entering the park, we predictably found ourselves running in almost complete solitude on a (mostly) cleared road (the Central Park snow removal team are not miracle-workers, after all). The majestic elms of Central Park were covered down the lengths of their north-facing trunks in a full dusting of snow (one positive side effect of strong winds, I guess). The ground was blanketed in fluffy white. We saw snow-men, a snow-woman, and even a rather impressive snow-dog. Zdenek and I both commented to each other at least once, “This is so beautiful!” And under breaking skies, over occasionally slippery roads, I ran a solid 10.3 miles. (Remarkably, I even hit my target paces.)

If I were not so accustomed to heading out no matter the weather, and perhaps if five miles weren’t a perfectly manageable run to me, then I would never have found myself in the necessary shape and with adequate motivation to run ten miles this morning in the prettiest of winter conditions. Perhaps that runner in the green sweatshirt was right, and yesterday’s conditions are the reason I run, after all. Perhaps every run in abysmal weather is just preparation for the real thing.