Hey, cold one this morning. -26*C, but no wind. I just had a slit in my head gear for my eyes. Got out about 7:30a.m. The hardest part was getting out of the house. And just after I got out, there was no lolly-gag'n on the step. I took off right away. It was cold at the start and I was thinking, this will be short, I'll cut it short, etc. All those kind of thoughts - you know them. Anyway, after 10 minutes, your brain changes. It becomes easier to run. And amazing, your not cold like your brain earlier told you you would be. Your brain sometimes is a bloody liar. Or a part of it is I should say. The will power part is the good part. It's always pushing to do it!
But, this morning as I ran and frosted up, it reminded me of Robert Service's famous poem and especially those lines about the eyelashes freezing.
"On a Christmas Day we were mushing our way over the Dawson trail.
Talk of your cold! through the parka’s fold it stabbed like a driven nail.
If our eyes we’d close, then the lashes froze till sometimes we couldn’t see;
It wasn’t much fun, but the only one to whimper was Sam McGee."
keep give'n'er,
gk
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