New York City got rocked with over a foot of the fluffy white stuff today, and the temps at 6:30PM were dropping sub-twenty. Not exactly what the weaker among us would define as "running weather". But as is my mantra, this sport isn't fun unless your in enough pain that the possibility of vomit and/or tears is strong to quite strong. Today wasn't that kind of pain. More like the pain you get when a 20 MPH wind blows through the park and makes your face feel like it's going to peel off, hit the ground, and shatter, but you're already on the other side of the lower loop so you have no choice but to continue around. It's in these moments that I hate circles.
In related news the only people I saw in the park tonight (outside of my group) were runners dropping 6:30 and faster miles. Runners that aren't "casual", or "sport" or any other pronoun that imparts some kind of a preconceived weakness. Just RUNNERS.
And it wasn't just the speed. I did two laps with my girl Roz who was bragging that she finally broke a 9:00 mile in a race. When I told her that I was happy she came out despite the weather her reply was, "Stop playin me fool. You know I'm not one of them fair weather types. Best recognize."
In retrospect I think I may have taken some liberties with the dialogue but you get the point. My girl's a gansta.
Running + Snow = Cold
Running + Cold = Pain
Running + Pain = Sacrifice
Running + Sacrifice = Authenticity
Running + Authenticity = Mad Respect Playa
She you foolios in the Park.