Dear Diary,
Well, shit. Its been an unusually cold winter. Wherer's my hairspray? (she said, standing outside and spraying the CFCs into the atmosphere...bitch, I don't car about global warming. I'm cold now.)
So I have yet to follow my training plan for one. Single. Week. What the hell is wrong with me? For whatever reason I get all weird when it's cold outside. So i tried asking myself the questions I had on my last post:
What's the worst that could happen?
Seriously? You are reading the blog of the queen of worst case scenario and I have the expired prescription for Xanax to prove it. I could trip, fall into an arroyo into a pile of brush and not be found. Slowly, I would freeze to death as coyotes feast on my carcass. Eventually, a gully washer would wash my remains down into the Rio Grande, and be covered over with silt and never seen again.
What's the likelihood of that actually happening?
Pretty low, I guess.
Then why aren't you out there running right now?
Because I'm a giant wheenie. And a big wuss. A cold wuss. The pathetic part is that I'm also a heat wuss. Truth be told, there is a very narrow window in which I consider it acceptable to run outside, and it's between 50 and 65. That's not as narrow as my cycling window, which is between 68 and 73 when it's partly cloudy and there's no wind. But it's even more complicated than that. Behold, my decision-making rubric:
...................................sunny.........windy........cloudy.........raining
10-20 degrees F. No. Fucking. Way. Ever.
20-30 degrees F. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope.
30-40 degrees F. Maybe. Nope. Nope. Nope.
40-50 degrees F. Yes. Nope. Nope. Nope.
50-60 degrees F. Yes. Nope. Yes. Nope.
60-70 degrees F. Yes. Maybe. Yes. Nope.
70-80 degrees F. Nope. Maybe. Yes. Yes.
80-90 degrees F. No. Fucking. Way. Ever
So, as you can see, the ideal conditions are, well, my house. Or the gym. And the occasional spring or fall day.
So long as it's not windy.
I should mention that I will hike on some of the cold blackout days. Like yesterday, when Baboo said, "hey, wanna go on a hike with me?" and I thought, heh. He's injured. How bad could this be? I should know better by now. Dammit. We climbed over 1100 feet in 3 miles. It was icy ladders and stairs, covered with sand, the whole way.
Meanwhile, I've generated another training plan. That I intend to follow. No, really this time.
