I got back from a business trip to Huntsville, AL (low of 59, high of 72, blue skies) that afternoon to a cloudy, rainy, foggy, cold Logan Airport. Just a big, fat, wet New England punch in the gut. Since only princesses and baseball players stop what they're doing for inclimate weather, I geared up and headed out.
Critical point: I donned my Ranger panties (the manliest short shorts on the market), under armor long sleeve,
cotton tee, Team Zissou cap, and long sox. This left my hands, face, neck, thighs, and knees exposed. I was all pumped up to be running in the 39F rainy weather wearing short shorts. Really, nothing says, "I don't give a darn" like doing the exact opposite of what you should do.
So I ran, temperatures dropped, rain picked up, and my clothes got drenched. My body began to freeze. My legs, arms and face stayed warm and I kept my hands warm with my breath. At five miles in, my weiner started to tingle, then hurt, then lost all feeling. That's when the inner monologue began, "Hey numbnuts. How about you don't lose your manhood over a stupid October run. Go warm yourself up." The nearest building was hosting a fancy Cambridge dinner party. They proooobably weren't willing to let me, AHEM, warm myself in the lobby there so I found a nearby parking garage and awkwardly stood there with my hands down my pants. Take away the reflector belt and water bottle and you've got a perfectly normal scenario here. Just another unshaven, Zissou-hatted homeless dude trying to enjoy life in the only way he can. However, I looked like a polar bear pervert or an idiot runner who didn't look at the weather report.
I passed a bank sign that said 29F at the end of the run but I made it back and everything was in working order. Do not fret ladies.
Tips du jour: 1) It's time to invest in some running gloves. 2) In the words of the Romans, "Semper ubi sub ubi." Or "Always wear underwear." Didn't think I had Latin puns did you?
Keep training,
LSF
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