Brass Monkeys

Brass monkeys. That means it’s farrrken cold. That winter we thought we were having? Autumn with a wig on. They keep promising snow, but no such luck. No black ice = no excuses.

Layering up to run I’m sure I’m clearly losing my mind, possibly caused by a week without running due to various time constraints. Losing my mind and also, it would transpire, my ability to feel my fingers and nose.

Three minutes into the run and I’m realising I am running A LOT faster. Its so cold the thought of slowing down or stopping just isn’t an option. Result! I find I’m actually overtaking slower runners (well, just the one). I feel like a freakin’ super hero. Then I get a stitch.

1.5 miles from home and my hand have gone numb, so without gloves I’m having to flay my hands around like a deranged nursery school teacher singing ‘twinkle twinkle’. Attracting odd looks at Shepherd’s Bush roundabout, which is an achievement in itself. It’s at this point I remember I’ve left my front door keys at work.

Thankfully, R is home and lets me in, frozen to the core and slightly manic from my cold shock injected speed fest. The combination of being hit with warm central heating and rush of endorphins, means I have to lie very still on the sofa for about twenty minutes while I try and string a sentence together.

5.5 miles logged and in the bank. Need to stop checking accuweather. 7 degrees below on Friday. Will be investing in those gloves, and beanie and maybe more thermals.

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