Hypothermia, here I come!
No, I haven't actually gotten hypothermia...yet. But temperatures this month have tested my sense of what to wear, that's for sure. With the Hypothermic Half this weekend, it'll come down to the morning of the race before I can say what my outfit will consist of. I now know just what temperatures I can get away with not wearing the whole kit and kaboodle. I even survived the near-misses that the suddenly plummeting temperatures and windchill have presented us with in the last week or two. But there were some close calls, let me tell you.
The first one came two weeks back, when windchill first hit. Sadly, I was not prepared for it, I had no idea of how to gauge the sudden dip in the temperature. I didn't want to overdress, because what would I have to wear if it got even colder? I ended up underdressing instead. But I wasn't alone, and so those of us who were exposing too much skin to the cruel wind turned in halfway through the route that night. I did feel like I whimped out, even if I was the only one. By the time we returned to the store, I was actually feeling warmer, and might not have been in such danger of frostbite that night, if I had just toughed it out. But there's no way to know now what might have happened.
The following Sunday, two weeks before race day, we had our longest slow run: 20km. It was a beautiful, sunny, Sunday morning, which was perfectly in keeping with the repeat I was doing of the relaxation combo I described last month. Friday morning's massage had ironed out whatever kinks were leftover from straining my lower back over the holidays. Saturday's yoga class was showed definite improvement as I could dispense with the caution that having a back injury merited in the previous two visits. And I was definitely looking forward to another gong meditation Sunday afternoon, with a friend along, no less! So, the morning run was made even sweeter by the sunny, warm weather. I felt so good, I actually kicked it into high gear for the final stretch, practically flying back to the store's parking lot. I think I surprised a few of the runners who were already there, stretching. I know it was totally against the scheduled slow pace that we were supposed to stick with for this run, but I hadn't pulled that kind of stunt in years, and I just wanted to do it once, to get it out of my system for a while. I'm not a sprinter, by any means, but it was great to stretch my legs out like that. I probably won't be able to do it again for some time, because Monday, which I'd taken off to properly rest after such a long run, we had a snow storm. It snowed all day, and I actually got cabin fever, not because I actually had anything to go and do outside, but just because I wouldn't have been able to go out if I had wanted to. Winter was finally here.
Dressing for Tuesday's run, I thought back to the run the previous Wednesday, and wore everything I had wished I had on during that run. Including my balaclava, which I was hoping would be more effective than the running toque that I'd only worn for the first time on that first chilling run. There was no other way to test it out but to head out with it on, and so I pulled it up over my nose for maximum face coverage. That turned out to be a mistake because the warm air of my breath (which would have kept my nose warm enough, it turns out) was directed right behind my glasses, where it didn't just fog up the lenses. No, Jack Frost got to play with some condensation on the inside of my glasses. There was nothing I could do to reverse the thickening frost on my glasses--once it was there, I couldn't get rid of it while running. So, I ran the whole 6km trusting my fellow runners to steer me around corners and relying on the instincts I honed back in my cross-country days to handle the terrain issues. With the snowfall of the previous day, the sidewalks and street corners were not clear of snow, and many a time I had to adjust in mid-step to a surprise snowdrift. I did have some vision, just the bit below the rim of my glasses, but nearsightedness and darkness are not really friends, and I could only see about two steps in front of me like that. However, I couldn't just stop. Ultimately, I'm just that stubborn, and besides, I was the map for our pace group--I had the street names and turns memorized, so I was directing where we'd turn. As long as they could read the street signs for me, that was. Surviving a half hour of running while mostly blind certainly made up for the way I'd been feeling about the previous chilly run. And it revealed the level of trust I have in my fellow runners--like those tests of trust where one falls backwards into their teammates waiting arms.
The wind stayed away on Wednesday making for a very good comparison to the night before because it was technically about the same temperature outside, but there was no windchill to make the balaclava a necessity. The windchill came back for the Sunday morning run, though, and drove things even colder because the sun had not been out much yet to warm things up from the nighttime low. So, again I tested out the balaclava, trying to keep my face warm at the start of the run but keeping my glasses clear of fog and frost. I wasn't able to maintain that, so once again my field of vision was being obscured. For a good portion of the run I toughed it out because with the sun up I could at least make out the shape of the terrain by contrasting colours, but I realized that my natural nearsightedness was probably better than the frosted mess that I was trying to interpret on the run. At least I was more comfortable navigating by it. So, I carried my glasses for the second half of the run. I definitely have to work on the how tos of wearing the balaclava.
This past week, training racheted up a notch, with two short runs at our actual race pace, simulating what we can expect on Sunday. Running at race pace is not something I anticipate having problems with. The problems will come in with how much snow we'll have to plough through--it's like running on sand, if it is the fine powdered stuff, where you have to push harder to move forward to make up for the backsliding of having such unstable footing. That makes any workout just that much more strenuous. Here's hoping the route will be clear on Sunday...or at least, that 300 pairs of feet crossing back and forth four times in each direction will clear any loose snow away by the end of the 21.1km. And although the course is infamous for being windy, I hope the windchill isn't deadly, either. There is going to be a troop of Brownies handing out water along the course, and it would be really bad for them to freeze on us. At least us runners will be dashing through the snow to keep warm. Hopefully.
The first one came two weeks back, when windchill first hit. Sadly, I was not prepared for it, I had no idea of how to gauge the sudden dip in the temperature. I didn't want to overdress, because what would I have to wear if it got even colder? I ended up underdressing instead. But I wasn't alone, and so those of us who were exposing too much skin to the cruel wind turned in halfway through the route that night. I did feel like I whimped out, even if I was the only one. By the time we returned to the store, I was actually feeling warmer, and might not have been in such danger of frostbite that night, if I had just toughed it out. But there's no way to know now what might have happened.
The following Sunday, two weeks before race day, we had our longest slow run: 20km. It was a beautiful, sunny, Sunday morning, which was perfectly in keeping with the repeat I was doing of the relaxation combo I described last month. Friday morning's massage had ironed out whatever kinks were leftover from straining my lower back over the holidays. Saturday's yoga class was showed definite improvement as I could dispense with the caution that having a back injury merited in the previous two visits. And I was definitely looking forward to another gong meditation Sunday afternoon, with a friend along, no less! So, the morning run was made even sweeter by the sunny, warm weather. I felt so good, I actually kicked it into high gear for the final stretch, practically flying back to the store's parking lot. I think I surprised a few of the runners who were already there, stretching. I know it was totally against the scheduled slow pace that we were supposed to stick with for this run, but I hadn't pulled that kind of stunt in years, and I just wanted to do it once, to get it out of my system for a while. I'm not a sprinter, by any means, but it was great to stretch my legs out like that. I probably won't be able to do it again for some time, because Monday, which I'd taken off to properly rest after such a long run, we had a snow storm. It snowed all day, and I actually got cabin fever, not because I actually had anything to go and do outside, but just because I wouldn't have been able to go out if I had wanted to. Winter was finally here.
Dressing for Tuesday's run, I thought back to the run the previous Wednesday, and wore everything I had wished I had on during that run. Including my balaclava, which I was hoping would be more effective than the running toque that I'd only worn for the first time on that first chilling run. There was no other way to test it out but to head out with it on, and so I pulled it up over my nose for maximum face coverage. That turned out to be a mistake because the warm air of my breath (which would have kept my nose warm enough, it turns out) was directed right behind my glasses, where it didn't just fog up the lenses. No, Jack Frost got to play with some condensation on the inside of my glasses. There was nothing I could do to reverse the thickening frost on my glasses--once it was there, I couldn't get rid of it while running. So, I ran the whole 6km trusting my fellow runners to steer me around corners and relying on the instincts I honed back in my cross-country days to handle the terrain issues. With the snowfall of the previous day, the sidewalks and street corners were not clear of snow, and many a time I had to adjust in mid-step to a surprise snowdrift. I did have some vision, just the bit below the rim of my glasses, but nearsightedness and darkness are not really friends, and I could only see about two steps in front of me like that. However, I couldn't just stop. Ultimately, I'm just that stubborn, and besides, I was the map for our pace group--I had the street names and turns memorized, so I was directing where we'd turn. As long as they could read the street signs for me, that was. Surviving a half hour of running while mostly blind certainly made up for the way I'd been feeling about the previous chilly run. And it revealed the level of trust I have in my fellow runners--like those tests of trust where one falls backwards into their teammates waiting arms.
The wind stayed away on Wednesday making for a very good comparison to the night before because it was technically about the same temperature outside, but there was no windchill to make the balaclava a necessity. The windchill came back for the Sunday morning run, though, and drove things even colder because the sun had not been out much yet to warm things up from the nighttime low. So, again I tested out the balaclava, trying to keep my face warm at the start of the run but keeping my glasses clear of fog and frost. I wasn't able to maintain that, so once again my field of vision was being obscured. For a good portion of the run I toughed it out because with the sun up I could at least make out the shape of the terrain by contrasting colours, but I realized that my natural nearsightedness was probably better than the frosted mess that I was trying to interpret on the run. At least I was more comfortable navigating by it. So, I carried my glasses for the second half of the run. I definitely have to work on the how tos of wearing the balaclava.
This past week, training racheted up a notch, with two short runs at our actual race pace, simulating what we can expect on Sunday. Running at race pace is not something I anticipate having problems with. The problems will come in with how much snow we'll have to plough through--it's like running on sand, if it is the fine powdered stuff, where you have to push harder to move forward to make up for the backsliding of having such unstable footing. That makes any workout just that much more strenuous. Here's hoping the route will be clear on Sunday...or at least, that 300 pairs of feet crossing back and forth four times in each direction will clear any loose snow away by the end of the 21.1km. And although the course is infamous for being windy, I hope the windchill isn't deadly, either. There is going to be a troop of Brownies handing out water along the course, and it would be really bad for them to freeze on us. At least us runners will be dashing through the snow to keep warm. Hopefully.