The Ill-Prepared Run

Popsicle Toes

You ever have one of those outdoor adventures that start out as a casual jaunt and end with you thinking dark thoughts of various 911 outcomes?

Looking outside at the beautiful sunny day I watched the temperature creep from a comfortable 32˚ all the way to a lovely 44˚.  At some point during my morning frittering the thought flashed through my mind that if I didn’t go soon I would lose my window of opportunity to run in the warm sun.  I double-checked the weather forecast and scoffed at the erroneous high of 36˚and “snow likely.”  They must be wrong, I thought, since it was 44˚ and the sun was shining brightly.

I took my time getting my running clothes on and at the last minute threw on my light windbreaker, Buff, and light gloves since I HATE being cold.  Starting down the street, I looked up for an up-to-date weather check and was disappointed to see some light grey clouds intermittently covering the sun.

Upon entering the dirt path at Spring Canyon Park, I could see an ominous darkness in the heavens to the north.  I felt stronger than yesterday and was running along at a nice pace when the first tiny balls of snow began to drop from the sky haphazardly.  I smiled and thought how cute the snow looked flitting to the ground at such a lazy pace…as if only a handful of water molecules in the air had enough energy to freeze their hydrogen bonds. 

I was hopeful the sun would stick it out for the entirety of my run and so I kept running around the north side of the park.  I decided I’d make it a secondary goal of my run to see if Pineridge and Timber Trail were open so I could let Alex know for the FCTR Thursday Night Social Run.  The gate into Pineridge off of Overland Trail was open and so up into the dirt I went.  I was excited to be running on dry dirt for a change compared to the slushy or unevenly packed snow.  The sun was still out but I could tell that if I ran south I would get more exposure.  I decided to run north so I would get that exposure on the way home.

Heading north around Dixon Reservoir I thought I saw that the Timber Trail gate was shut.  I decided to go a half mile into Maxwell behind the stadium to make my run a bit longer…you know, since Timber Trail was closed.  It was getting darker and colder and the dark mass of clouds were pushing their way south, obliterating any chance of sun exposure.  The snow was dropping a little more than before, but not much.  The wind was fierce and I was looking forward to turning around to use the tail wind to my advantage. 

I turned around just as the full force of the storm came to fruition and began dumping snow diagonally due to the power of the wind.  I was a little giddy, as I’m want to be when caught in ridiculous yet not too dangerous situations.  There I was, in shorts, in the middle of a blowing snowstorm, passing sane people in pants and full winter gear.  The wind aggressively pushed me south, back into Pineridge and around the west side of the reservoir. 

Timber Trail was open, so of course, I had to go that way.  Thinking, this isn’t so bad…the back of my bare legs sting a bit but, I feel so alive.  There’s nothing like a blowing sideways snowstorm to push you to go faster.  I was pushing 10s thanks to the wind, which is a fast pace for my longer runs.  It felt like I was zipping along the Timber Trail and before I knew it I had passed the shortcut to the ridge and was heading for the southern-most part of the Pineridge Loop.

At this point I began to think I may have been a bit zealous in my running regimen.  All I could hear was the rushing of wind through the pines.  My sight was limited to 50’ in all directions.  I could barely make out the ridge across the valley.  The clouds had me thoroughly socked-in as I desperately ran for home.

Heading into the wind, my face was blasted with freezing wind and huge snowflakes.  This is when I used my Buff to cover my face entirely and gingerly made my way along the trail using the contrast of the white snow-covered trail against the darker wheat-colored grasses.  The Buff became a frozen tube encasing my face that made me think of Dune’s sandworms for some reason. 

The Fremen secretly master the skill of riding 
sandworms for transportation across the desert.

At some point towards the end of my run I looked down at my beet-red, bare legs and thought…huh…they’re tingly…wonder if I’ll get sensation back in those things…yah…no worries…keep running.  

I made it home after 7.5 miles and took stock of what could have been a bad situation.

 

You know it’s bad when…1) you’ve lost sensation in a large muscle group; 2) snow collects and does not melt on said large muscle group; 3) your thoughts turn dark and morbid playing through various scenarios…all of which end badly; and 4) your Buff freezes in the shape of a colorful sandworm.

BRRRRRRRRRR!

Pollyannaisms: 1) I hate being cold so I overdressed for a 44 degree run; 2) my beautiful bright green windbreaker kept my core toasty and doubled as a hand warmer; and 3) the most awesomely cool invention ever…the Buff…so many different ways to wear a tube…it’s incredible.

 Looking towards Pineridge from my backyard.