Those are my pasty legs, which saw the sun for the first time since one of my lackluster runs in Atlanta. At least I think I ran once sans coverings while "home" for Christmas. Anyway, I am not wearing white tights in this picture. Those are my bare sticks, bearing the brunt of abuse from the treadmill and trainer these days. My "guns," if you will.
The quote at the top is from Missoula-based pro triathlete Linsey Corbin, who adopts this philosophy in winters possibly more harsh than mine. She also rides her bike on 40-degree days with legs exposed, a length to which I will not go.
I was a little chilly when I started out today, into a relatively light southwest breeze, but I eventually warmed up. I shed my beanie around 15 minutes in, and then the gloves another 10 minutes later. It was almost like a real run, save the long-sleeved shirt. I took 48 minutes to complete a 5.8-mile, somewhat rectangular circuit on the south side of town near my crib.
http://www.mapmyrun.com/routes/view/61066138
In any event, we're back to the reality of winter tomorrow, a winter storm headed our way with snow and wind, wind and snow, driving me into the gym to save my lungs from a deep freeze.
And this is what you look like when you go swimming, put on a fleece beanie for the drive home, then get sweaty underneath a polypropylene beanie during the run. You end up with a dirty blond afro. Several strands near my forehead coalesced into the beginning of a righteous dreadlock that I scrubbed out immediately upon starting the shower. I'm a hippie at heart, but I would look silly with dreads, sillier with a single dread hanging in my face.
