Tough as Old Boots No More

Halloween has come and gone now, and the weather continued to be much milder than usual through all of October.  The leaves are still on some of the trees down in Clear Creek Valley, which is unusual for the first week in November.  And when raking leaves on Tuesday I discovered another yellow-jacket nest in the yard that was still active.

But we finally had our first frost this week and were reminded of how uncomfortable cold-weather running seems to be these days.  Veteran 80-year old runner Fred is a hard one to discourage - "tough as old boots," they would call him in Britain; even when the temperature drops below freezing, he usually wears shorts.  But he doesn't like it much, either.  "I used to not like running when it was below 20 degrees," he told me last year.  "Then it became 30 degrees.  And now it is 40 degrees."  We all feel the cold more and more as we grow older.

This weekend we skipped the usual Saturday-morning run and ran on Friday instead because temperatures were predicted to be below freezing.  We were in the post office on our way out of Town that morning and ran into our friend Bob, who no longer runs because of knee problems but was once one of our regular companions.  "Richard!" he said.  "What are you doing here?  Why aren't you out running?"  I mumbled something about cold temperatures, and he laughed scornfully.  "We used to get out in weather like this!  Remember that old picture you send out from time to time?"

I did remember that picture, and I found it:

That's Bob on the left, then Brian, then me, then Skip.  And I well remember that magical day, when we all started running our normal three-mile route and it began snowing, accumulating an inch or so before we could return to the Town Hall.  I think the year was 2003.

And I found this one, too, in the same photo album.  January, 2016, and another exhilarating snowy run in Highlands!  That's an impressive accumulation of snow on my fleece vest.

But these days I avoid running in weather like that, and I am not ashamed to admit it.  I slipped on a patch of ice crossing Fifth Street a week ago and went down in an instant.  Fortunately, only my butt and my pride were bruised and nothing was broken.  But I do not like to take chances anymore.  This year I was sidelined by hernia surgery for several weeks, the longest I have been forced to stop running, and I do not want to be sidelined again because of carelessness.

The weather miraculously warmed up again this afternoon to the upper 50s in Highlands, just for a day or two.  Martha had a good five-mile run and found that she had overdressed.  I am planning to run tomorrow morning when it is going to be equally pleasant - short sleeves and shorts.  But looking ahead, on Tuesday, this lovely little respite will end and winter will arrive in earnest as an Arctic Chill sweeps relentlessly southward.

It doesn't look like we will receive what weather forecasters like to call "significant accumulations" of snow.  But the temperature Wednesday morning is predicted to plummet from the 50s to a bone-chilling 17 degrees.  I will be indoors on Tuesday, making sure the generator is ready to crank up and the heaters are on in the well house.

I will not be running.