You literally can't see one block in any direction. On my way to the bus stop this morning, I walked down Ogilvie Street, and when I came to Ogilvie and 4th, I turned all the way around and literally could not see further than a block in any direction.
It takes a second for your brain to recognize how cold it really is. At first, I left my apartment and it really felt okay. Those first few steps out into extreme cold always make it seem so over-hyped. But it doesn't take long...
It doesn't matter how ready you think you are. You can wear your thick socks, your long-johns, your huge parka - in the end, everyone does the same thing: You put your hood up, your head down, you start walking and you hope for the best.
You don't take your hands out of your pockets/mittens for longer than about 10 seconds. It starts to burn if they're exposed much longer than that.
You should expect the cold to reach every part of you, even if you're only going to be outside for 7 minutes or something.
You curse your maker for designing you such that you have to suck the cold air into your lungs to survive.
The cold eventually numbs your lips though. It's like a cold-air scab, helping you deal with the pain.
You flip down the fur on your hood if you've got it (hopefully you've got it) to try and trick your face into believing that layer of fur actually provides some warmth.
You pace back and forth at the bus stop. You keep moving because at a certain point, it starts to feel like it's really, really important that you not let your feet sit perfectly still for more than a few seconds.
Your mp3 player's battery, which started with 4 bars back at the house, is down to one bar eight blocks later.
