The zen of winter running

When conditions get tough, the tough get running

Welcome to winter running week. In Wednesday’s newsletter, we’ll get into tips and gear recs for battling the elements. Before you get geared up, you have to find the motivation to get out there. 

I was less than a mile into my run when I came around a curve and found nirvana. The sun was just starting to peek over the horizon, painting the sky with kaleidoscope bursts of reds, oranges, and yellows. The glow from the sunrise shimmered off a frozen pond, illuminating the snow-capped trees, and providing enough ambient light to guide me through the forest. 

It’s moments like these when I wish I ran with my phone so I could capture the scene. What is it we tell our child? Take a picture with your mind. I took a second to breathe it all in, letting the crisp morning air rush through my body. I laughed at the absurd beauty that lay before me, and thought about how I had become the sort of person who enjoys running in the winter.  

It wasn’t always this way. There was a time, not so long ago, when I wouldn’t venture out of the house once temperatures dipped into the 30s. Run in snow? No way. Ice? Forget it. Now my limit is minus 10 with the wind chill, and I love the soft crunch of snowpack under my feet. (I still hate ice. Everyone hates ice.) 

I didn’t wake up one morning and feel comfortable running in extreme temperatures. It happened gradually, little by little and year by year, until I came to a place where cold weather simply didn’t bother me anymore. There’s a zen-like quality to running in the winter. It requires an acceptance of meteorological forces far beyond our control, and a willingness to meet them on their terms, not ours. 

In a sense, my cold weather conversion mirrored my training habits. It’s not like I had the aerobic capacity to run a marathon when I started training. I had to build the base. In the same vein, it wasn’t until I put myself through different cold-weather situations and learned valuable lessons about layering and run management that I felt comfortable.

All that knowledge and gear would be useless without the motivation to get up in the morning when the temperature drops below freezing. That has to come from within, and there’s no question that you must be mentally tough to run in the winter. 

I used to think that mental toughness was something you either had or you didn’t. Now I believe it’s a skill that can be trained. For proof, I need to only point to my winter running evolution. Something that once seemed beyond my comprehension is now second nature. 

If you’re a little intimidated about running in the cold, the good news is that as runners we all have an edge of mental toughness already ingrained. Just getting out there, in any conditions, is an accomplishment worth celebrating. If hammering treadmill miles is your winter go-to move, I salute your dedication and tenacity. 

Of course, being able to withstand something and actively enjoying it are two different things. I like running in the winter for the simple reason that a lot of people don’t bother. Especially now with my family home with me all day, my runs are the only time when I can be completely alone. If I see a dozen people during the course of a run, it’s a lot. In the winter, that number gets cut in half, and is occasionally even zero.  

Winter running also makes me feel like a badass when I come back from a run with ice on my beard and frost covering my hat. How often in life do you get to feel like a Viking? Conversely, winter running also makes me slow down and appreciate the natural beauty of my environment. Most of all, it gives me optimism that I can get through the darkest days of winter with a little more sanity than I might have otherwise.   

Back in 2014-15, the Boston area was hit with over 100 inches* of snow. Every week, it seemed, a nor'easter arrived to bury us all over again. Nowadays, I would strap on a pair of snowshoes and get after it. Back then, I couldn’t have run even if I wanted to because I slipped on some black ice and landed hard on my knee. 

*(ED note: I initially wrote feet instead of inches. Whoops.)

That winter was one of the most depressing periods of my life. The fitness I gained from my first marathon that fall was completely gone. My motivation to work out waned. I put on weight and drank too much wine. I just remember endless gray in all directions. Even thinking back on that winter gives me a shiver of dread, and provides significant motivation to continue running through the pandemic. 

One of the things that pulled me out of that space was a trip to New York for the NBA All-Star Game. It was exceptionally cold -- as I recall, temperatures were in the low teens -- but when I got to New York, I was stunned to see so little snow on the ground. I made plans to see a friend for dinner in the Village and was so excited about being outside, I walked several miles in both directions. 

When I got back to my hotel I felt like I had undergone a profound change. I couldn’t quite articulate it at the time, but it was as if I had tapped into something deep inside myself. It was freaking freezing outside, and I liked it. We endured several more storms that winter, but I had turned a corner mentally thanks to that frigid walk through the city. 

It wasn’t until the following winter that I began putting the cold-weather running pieces together. That year I tripled my winter mileage and did the vast majority of my runs outside. During the next winter, I trained for Boston and didn’t skip a workout. Since then, I’ve learned how to run in snow, ice, and sub-freezing temperatures. 

Quite honestly, I don’t think I’ll ever stop learning about winter running. No matter how tough I think I am, the winter always finds a way to humble and educate me. Each run is like a precious gift, full of possibility and wonder. No matter how you feel about running this time of year, you have to admit it’s pretty hard to beat a winter sunrise. 

What say you? Does winter running move your soul or chill your toes?