It's A Love / Hate Relationship

The Burlington Runners Lunatic Fringe members celebrate Groundhog Day 2003 by doing their best Wiarton Willie imitations on a six mile run.
The Burlington Runners Lunatic Fringe members celebrate Groundhog Day 2003
by doing their best Wiarton Willie imitations on a six mile run.

From left to right Len Cicero, Art Bascom, Pat Peters, Eugene Combs, Ian Lagdon, Gary Henbry, Tom Schopf (back), Thelma Smith (front) and John Simon.

There's so much to love about running but there's oh so much to hate as well. Oh yeah, there is a dark side. There's a lot to dislike, loathe and even hate. And boy, can I get into that dark place right now.

Last Sunday, I got up to run with the 8:30 AM crew, figuring that at least a couple of people would show up and not everyone from the slower group would participate in the Lunatic Fringe's "Ground Hog Day Run".

If you didn't participate, picture a bunch of people dressed in white, one-piece, Tyvex suits (in memory of our local weather forecasting rodent, Wiarton Willy, an albino groundhog), running six miles in honour of the six more weeks of winter and partying after to celebrate the occasion. Yes, the sun came out mid-morning and I'm blaming them if we get a longer winter.

Guess what? Yup, no one showed up. I sat in my car for ten minutes, waiting, hoping for company. Nope, no one, not a soul, not even the Running Room people training for the Round The Bay road race in March. Lots of cars, but no runners. Thanks pals.

So, I did my latest long run solo. Yeah, the sixteen-mile loop, the dump run, all alone, all by myself, manno-a-no-one-else. So, with a deadline for this column looming, what's a guy going to do but use the time to figure out what the heck to write about.

Ok, so I also worked out some issues with my boss at work, but that has nothing to do with running. I digress...

If you have run with me, you know that I hate being cold. You'll never hear me complain about the heat. I love running in the summer, and routinely do my lunchtime jaunt at the beach at the hottest part of the day. I love it. Sun, wind, moveable scenery, what's not to like? Compare that to being bundled up against the elements, no sense of freedom, just cowering against the cold and I wonder why we even continue once the thermometer drops below zero Celsius. Every year, I fight the urge to quit running outside once the snow flies.

I hate cold feet, cold hands, cold nose and cheeks (both ends). I hate not feeling my thighs or butt; I hate feeling like a wooden replica of my summer self. I especially hate that cold biting wind that seems to find every chink in the armour, layers of clothing that I have to wear to endure this season. By February I'm tired of reaching into my bag to pull out all that clothing and trying to decide what the heck I'm going to wear.

I'm also getting tired of the clothing game. You know the one. You stick your head out the door for a moment to judge the temperature and wind, trying to decide what to wear. Too few clothes and you'll be cold or bordering on hypothermic all the way back to the car. Too many and you'll be either overheated, become sweaty and then freeze or you will be carrying a camel load of clothes tied around your waist. Put it on, take it of, put it on, take it off. ARRRGGGG!

Oh, what I would do to enjoy a run in the sun wearing just my running shoes and shorts. And I know someone will go out of his or her way to remind me. You know who you are. I hate all those people, especially the Wednesday morning retirees (A.K.A – the Retreads) that are heading or have headed south. Especially Charles Fraser. I'm sure you'll be regaling all of us with tales of the poor young ladies, who were sacrificing their bodies to the perils of sunburn and exposure. Especially the exposure part. I'll get even with you later Charles. And that excuse about having a sore neck won't help either. I have an idea where you got it.

Then there are the issues of traction. I did a run a couple of weeks ago with Terry Barker. It had snowed the day before and that section on the Waterfront Trail in Hamilton left my hip flexors sore for days. Throw in slip sliding up the La Salle Park hill at the end of the run and, well, that's just the icing on the cake, if you'll pardon the pun.

Speaking of slipping, I thought people were supposed to shovel their walkways. Isn't there a law or something requiring them to be shovelled? You wouldn't think so trying tp run along the sidewalks in Burlington. You may be able to walk, snowshoe or ski on the sidewalks, but run, forget it.

But what is a runner supposed to do? The only option left is to run on the road. Talk about going from the frying pan into the fire (oh, if it was only that warm). Trade pulled muscles, ligaments and falls for the generosity and consideration of drivers and you might as well jump in front of the cars to save them the effort. You would think with two lanes free (three on Lakeshore), most drivers would give way and move into the empty road, leaving enough room for all to pass safely. Now most do, but there is always someone that either won't pull over, or purposely tries to see how close they can get. Then there's the people that honk, yell, curse and otherwise harass the poor runner just trying to get safely from point A to B.

It's cold, wet, dangerous times for those who run outside and I'm almost ready to join John Simon on the treadmill for my long run on Sundays. It might be boring but at least it's warm, dry and safe.

But it's not all bad. At the end of a cold run, a dry shirt can feel marvellous, a hot cup of coffee or bowl of thick soup can become a guilty pleasure and a hot shower, a gift from the gods. That glorious warmth at the end of a cold dark tunnel can almost make it worth the trial and discomfort of the winter run.

So, just as there cannot be good without bad, we all have to endure the cold of winter to appreciate the warmth of summer. I guess I'll just have to be happy finding the small and simple pleasures of the run for the next month or so. For just as I'm looking forward to the hot stuff now, I'm sure that come August, we'll all be yearning for the cold days of December.

By Mark G. Collis

Revised: December 24, 2003.