Visions of spring

I remember it now as if it were a dream.

The bright sun warmed me as I stepped out of the car. I unzipped my fleece and tossed it aside.

The light gloves and hat remained on, but I would shed those soon after beginning the run. Unzipping my wind jacket to let the breeze in also brought welcome relief.

What a glorious run it was. No thigh-numbing cold. The tips of my hair sticking out from under my hat did not freeze over with ice crystals. My cheeks did not sting.

I soaked it all in, every minute. Every mile. This morning, as my cheeks once again were stinging, my thighs were feeling the grip of the cold and I had to keep flexing my fingers to get the warm blood flowing, I thought about the promise of spring’s imminent arrival and my recent run on a bright, pleasant morning.

Now, it seems like it was a dream. But, really, it was only Saturday.

Time to go

We sincerely were glad to see you when you first arrived.

Come on in and let me take your coat. Can I get you a drink? How’s the family? Any new pictures?

You cracked us up with your stories about the latest adventures of the little ones. We reminisced and enjoyed the visit by a friend we had not seen in quite some time.

Sit, dinner’s ready. We ate, we laughed, we opened a bottle of wine. And then another. Good times. Good times.

Then the hour started to get late. We didn’t want to be rude hosts. But as our eyes grew heavy and we stole glances at the clock, you didn’t notice. You weren’t even slowing down. Midnight came and went. 1 a.m. soon was in the rearview mirror.

We’ve got to work tomorrow. Then you cranked up the music. And started dancing. On the furniture. Dude, you are going to wake the children. Craaackkk! There goes a table leg.

Uncool. Very uncool.

This essentially is how I am feeling about winter.

Fall completely rocks. I even like to see winter arrive. The crispness to the air is refreshing. A blanket of snow is absolutely beautiful. I was thrilled when the season started.

But now? Enough already.

I know, I know. It can't last too much longer, and others have had it far worse. Our old home in Milwaukee probably won’t dig out from all the snow until June. Chicago has not exactly enjoyed a picnic. But we’ve been smacked around by our share of ice storms this year. The snow keeps coming – and these jokers in this town don’t seem to know how to plow or shovel sidewalks. They keep shutting down the schools, exacerbating the daily chaos of our lives. My scheduled runs have had to be scrapped a few times.

When I do go out, it often devolves into a struggle to stay upright rather than a quality workout. Thursday morning didn’t seem so bad. At first. Then the sleet arrived.

My glasses have fogged over before. Running in the rain, I have had them covered in drops. Thursday was a first. The glasses soon were covered in a solid glaze of ice.

Rubbing them with a gloved finger did nothing. I needed an ice scraper like the one I use on my car, only smaller. Anybody know where I can get a miniature scraper?

Good tunes, good grub, but where's the good attitude?

Help me, fellow runners.

I went out this morning for a jaunt and once again encountered face-stinging, thigh-numbing cold. Enough already.

Many are suffering through far more severe winters this season. Running Jayhawk, Jason and Leah and Mouse all are getting dumped on by near-continuous ice, snow and arctic blasts in Chicago. Our previous home in Milwaukee has been getting dumped on big time this winter. One of the top 5 snowiest seasons, I think they are saying.

Still, even down here in the land of Oz, the ice storms, snow and cold are notching chinks in my runner’s resolve. I’m trying to catch a glimpse of sunny rays poking through the clouds, literally and metaphorically. Spring has to be coming soon. I’ll bet we shouldn’t have to deal with these truly unfriendly temperatures for all that much longer, but I need some help bucking up.

I would love to hear some of your coping with the bleakness of winter strategies, fellow runners. The Oz household has no gym membership nor treadmill, so those aren’t options. I need to get my tail on the road in the elements.

So I need to bundle up with fleece and other cold-weather paraphernalia. But most importantly, I need to wrap up in a good attitude. That’s the part that’s been hurting lately.

While not perfect, my approach involves good tunes and good food.

My buddy Henry, a fellow runner from Omaha, was appalled at my tendency to listen to what he considered to be boring podcasts while driving to and from work. He responded by sending me a tremendous gift: a couple of mix CDs.

Granted, I had at least a few of the artists already on my playlists. I had some KT Tunstall, Liz Phair, John Mayer and Colbie Caillat. But I felt even more tragically unhip than I usually do when I realized the depth of my tunes void when Henry introduced me to The Fray, Red Hot Chili Peppers, New Radicals, Feist and Natasha Bedingfield, among others.

I have been Jamming moreso than listening to Podcasts on my morning and evening drives lately. It’s definitely a welcome mood booster. I just have an old iPod classic, and not a compact iPod shuffle, so I don’t take the tunes on my runs, but I can see how that would be cool.

My other strategy involves food. Sure, I just about ate my weight in Girl Scout cookies in January, a couple of Dove Bars got scarfed in a fit of indulgence – and maybe a little self pity – and I did go for a juicy burger with piles of blue cheese and a mound of sweet potato fries the other day.

That’s not necessarily a helpful sort of food, though.

Comfort food – the kind that satisfies your soul and fuels a runner’s body – Now that is what I am talking about. On Sunday, I decided, I must roast a chicken.

Sliced some red potatoes, some carrots, quartered an onion and quartered some fennel (it looks weird, but try it; it’s awesome when roasted.)

Then cut a lemon in half, slice a whole head of garlic in half and then stuff it up the patoot of a chicken (after first removing the assorted stuff inside, of course)

Dump the veggies in roasting pan, put the chicken on top. I dribbled some melted butter over it, sprinkled with some salt and pepper. I got a little fancy schmancy with some sprinkled herbs de Provence, but you could also just toss on a dash of thyme.

Place that sucker in a 425 degree oven for an hour and a half to almost two hours. Take it out, let it sit for about 15 minutes. Then slice away and feed your friends, family, your soul and your runner’s body.

So I’m going to try leaning more on good tunes, good food (and the occasional Dove Bar) and thoughts of sunny days sure to come soon. Hope some of this works for you, too, and I would welcome your advice on getting through to Spring.