Frosty Wind made Moan

The first really cold run of the winter yesterday. It was still zero degrees at 9am and the pale sun, which had been glimmering weakly, promptly disappeared as I shut the front door behind me.

Pavements were rimy and littered with hidden puddles of ice. As I struggled up the first hill, occasional hard pellets of snow scratched my face. Before I’d even registered what they were, they became dabs of slush and swooped down in wet whirls for the rest of the run.

It was hard. I managed 7 miles and an hour’s running – my first full hour in a couple of months. My hands were so cold they went completely numb and then extremely painful as the feeling returned in the last 20 minutes. Unlocking the door on my return, I felt like an astronaut in space gloves trying to pick up a pin on the moon.

Back in the flat, skin tingling, face and ears burning hot and cold, sweat and sleet mingling in my hair, I caught sight of a smile in the mirror.

I’m a runner again.