Death to Bad Weather

This week’s weather has been total junk. In the first week of February in New England it should be, in a healthy world, pretty cold, snow-covered, and wintry. I’m not saying I love freezing my buns off and driving around with people skidding all over the road going six miles an hour or pulling off the high-way every five seconds to clear their windshields (as happens in Massachusetts) but I do feel pretty badly when it’s pouring rain and 55 degrees in what is supposed to be winter. Somehow the abnormal weather makes me guilty, as if I drive my car everywhere and leave it idling, leave lights on and faucets running all day, don’t recycle and do all the things that cause global warming. I’m not perfect (close, though) but I’m pretty eco-friendly and should not have these pangs of guilt. I’m not even Catholic, geez. So the question is: why should I have to suffer on the treadmill because of the world’s idiots? I shouldn’t. But alas, I do.

For three days of training this week, it has been raining. And I mean pouring raining. Lakes and ponds formed where there used to be yards; rivers expanded to twice their width. The highway department has come around every day to clean out the drainage grates so they can actually drain—that’s how much rain there is. So, there’s not much room for running outside. I can’t even walk the dog for seven minutes without coming home soaked, dripping, and miserable. At first, I was determined to stay off the treadmill. On Rainy Day One, I finished my book on the ever-popular elliptical machine in lieu of treading the mill. The one benefit to the elliptical machine is that one can read while exercising. I figured one day wouldn’t hurt. Then, as weather.com predicted, Rainy Day Two followed right after Rainy Day One. I didn’t feel right shirking my running duties two days in a row…and the forecast didn’t look any better. This leads me to the groundbreaking announcement that, yes, I ran on the treadmill. I admitted defeat, total and utter disappointing and scared defeat. I moped to the gym. I took ten minutes to tie my shoes. I filled up my water bottle four times. I circled the gym, trying to pump myself up for it. I checked myself out in the mirror for awhile, fiddled with the tv stations, stretched…I did everything I could to delay the inevitable. Finally, I got on, punched some buttons…and ran for 1/3 the amount of time I was supposed to. I swear I looked at the clock every seventeen seconds. I couldn’t really read the subtitles on CNN so I didn’t even have that boredom to preoccupy myself with. My iPod was dead too, so I had to listen to myself breathing for entertainment. Now that makes me want to run indoors even more, how bout you?

As much as I hate the treadmill, as much as it makes every ache and pain (I don’t actually have) feel like knives and mismatched gears grinding in my joints and muscles, as much as it bores the hell out of me, I feel that much more successful about completing the workout. Yeah, I only did 1/3 aka 2 miles aka 18-20 minutes aka not really much time at all, but I felt great about it; I came off that stupid machine victorious. Then I kicked it, spat on it, and swore I would never get on it again.

Instead of quitting (quitters never win, and winning is everything) I did something else aerobic-y for awhile to break up the monotony and diffuse some of my hatred. Then, I repeated the same exact process and called it a day. I am already dreading the day I have to get on that treadmill again. It gives me that sinking feeling just typing about it. Ick.

What about Rainy Day Three, you ask, totally enthralled? Well, it wasn’t as much raining as dumping snow. This is much better in the world of ski racers and winter-lovers but not much of an improvement for runners. However, the thought of the treadmill got me in some good snow gear and old sneakers pretty quickly. On top of that, my iPod was charged and my dog was psyched, and we all know how you can’t say no to your dog. It was an adventure too: I had to look straight down at my feet while running if I didn’t want to go blind from the giant flakes sticking to my eyeballs or clogging my eyelashes while at the same time trying to see where the safe parts of the road were and avoiding people driving by and splashing me with brown slush. I was soaking wet and freezing when I got home. Why am I doing this again?