The other night, when walking home from the bus stop with the wind howling around my ears, the cold biting at me from every direction and my shoulders pulled up, huddling with myself for warmth, I thought for the first time in almost two months, ‘I really fancy going for run.’
I think there is something a bit wrong with me. I hate running in the summer. In theory it’s easier, and true there’s less kit to battle with, but I just can’t get on with it. I get too hot. I either get dehydrated or drink so much I need the loo five minutes after setting off. I go the most impressive shade of maroon.
Winter on the other hand is ace. Its cold, it’s dark – I love it. I love getting on all my layers – running tights, a couple of tops, jacket, gloves and headband (gotta protect the ears!). There’s something about running under the cover of darkness. It’s like you’re in on a secret. It has its obvious dangers, but aside from that I like to think it’s that little bit more hardcore. These conditions aren’t for fair weather runners. I am neither hardcore, nor an all weather runner. But running when it’s freezing out and everyone else thinks your mental certainly helps.
It’s why the only half marathon I’ve managed to complete (out of the four I’ve entered over the past two years) has been at the start of the season in April – it was all winter training. I had a training plan that started on Boxing Day and came to a head once we were through the coldest, grimmest months of the year. I’m really looking forward to doing it all again.