Winter and Old Shoes

Two separate things, both worth mentioning in today's blog.

Let's start with winter. Muscle Man, Jim, Bob (still invokes a giggle) and I, live in Canberra. Our beautiful Nation's Capital. Canberra is truly a beautiful city and has so much to offer. However, the winters are bitterly cold. You can usually mark the change in the weather to a tee with Anzac day representing one of the last "warmish" days until winter passes. This year has proven no exception. Today did not see the temperature exceed 9 degrees, and in true Canberra form we had the wind chill blowing off the nearby snow-capped (so I am told) Brindabella Mountains.

This morning as I hung the washing on the line in a misguided attempt at drying it, I suffered my first bout of frost bite for the year. My poor fingers required some tender loving care from the combination of wet clothes and blistering cold winds. I'd have put them under the hot water tap once inside but to this day I am still scarred by the tales of being able to make someone wet their pants by alternating hands between hot and cold water :o)

Anyway, point taken, it was cold. So, tonight when I set off on my run I was met with equally as horrid conditions outside. My poor droplets of sweat never stood a chance. The instant they formed their perfect tear shape and prepared for their descent to earth they turned to jagged stalagmite's. By the time I arrived home I was a glistening prism of sweat icicles. Add to this the fact that it was really too cold to run, but in the same vain it was far too cold to walk. What was I to do? In my "pre-fab" days I may have curled into the foetal position and rocked wildly back and forth, terrified at the mere thought of exercising, let alone doing so in winter.

None the less, in true fabulous form I triumphed. I lumbered (it was too cold for anything remotely graceful) along my usual path to complete my chosen run, and despite my legs seizing up from the conditions, I even managed to cut 2 minutes off my usual time. Must have been an urgent desire to arrive inside the warmth of my house and a home cooked meal (with the thanks of Mrs McCain).

Now, the second issue with tonight's run - my joggers! My physio has advised me that a good pair of joggers will last between 1,000-,1500 kms before needing replacing. Well, my poor joggers are not even fit to be put to pasture, they need instant dismissal. Straight to the bin. Not even St Vincent De Paul's would benefit from the shoes I am currently running in. As I was jogging along, trying to distract myself from the fact my breath was smoking in front of me (I initially tried distraction by blowing ice rings - no such luck when you are running at a steady pace in the dark) I was calculating the number of kilometres these shoes have served me. Based on rough calculations I estimate I have jogged as follows:

24 weeks since I began jogging after the birth of Bob. An average of 6 times a week over that 24 weeks. An average of 30kms a week over that time. Drum roll please, cue theme music from Jaws....da da da da de de de doh doh (Ok, way off track with the theme music)...... 24 x's 6 x =144 x's 30 = 4,320 kms in my trusty joggers! OOOPS!! And just to demonstrate how ready for retirement they are:

As you can see, my toes are poking out the sides! All I can say is thank goodness jogging does not require any sudden twists or bursts to the side - I could break a toe with those holes! Moral of this story: run with thermal underwear, gloves and a balaclava (wonder how the general public would react to that) and buy NEW shoes!