It's official: I'm a cold weather wimp.
I said as much to Laura yesterday and she laughed her dissent. It's true, I have done some decidedly un-wimpy things out in the weather and the cold (and she's seen many of them), but lately, the thought of heading outside in the cold, dark, late afternoon just scares me right back inside again.
In past winters, I've had little choice. This year, I've got a cold weather coward's golden ticket: a monthly pass at the YMCA. I've been getting my fill of 4 and 6 milers on the indoor treadmill at the Y. I once scoffed and giggled and pointed a jesting finger at the gym rats and their hamster wheels, and now I'm officially one of them. There are perks, though, to working in the gym: a fancy heart-rate monitor built into the treadmill, a room full of weight machines, and best of all, a pool in the basement. (In which I now swim a full mile several times a week.)
I'm in the process of rebuilding my base mileage this month before hopping full bore into marathon training for the spring, so at some point I'm going to have to Man Up again and head outside for some weekend long runs. But now that we've cleared Christmas, the days are getting longer again, and the temperature ought to soar north of 45 again by, oh, say, April. When that happens, I'll be the first one outside again in my shorts and long sleeves.
Until then, a Coward I shall remain.