WINTER WONDERLAND

            How fortunate we are to live in a climate that permits year-round running. No wonder so many people from other parts of the country regard San Diego as a mecca for runners. Never too hot. Never too cold. That's the way it always seems to be. Oh, sure, there are a few days when it's uncomfortable or too rainy, but even the most dedicated runners could benefit by taking a day off on rare occasion.

            If I had to pick a favorite season, it would be winter. No Question. Maybe it's my Viking heritage, but December through March strikes me as the supreme running season. Cool temperatures, cloudy skies, maybe even a light rain: These are the conditions that suit me best.

            What a wonderful experience it is to race under cold-weather conditions. Unfortunately, others don't seem to see it this way and the winter season has the sparsest racing schedule. But no matter, some of my most memorable races have come in this time span.

            Several races come to mind. One is the 1981 Pine Valley-Descanso Kiwanis 10K held in Pine Valley in early February (nice planning, fellas). Talk about cold! The frozen ground snapped and crunched as the runners walked around the staging area prior to the start. Finally, the runners assembled in the early morning, absolutely frigid conditions to wait, and wait, and wait for the start. Ultimately, a half-hour delay was announced to the numb, shivering crowd. Well, maybe this one was a bit too chilly!

            But who could ever forget the 1983 Holiday Half Marathon held in San Luis Rey between Christmas and the New Year. Everything was covered with a thick, fluffy-white layer of frost and you could see the footprints of the runners who had walked around the grassy field near the registration area. But by race time the frost was largely gone and the sun had risen to give clear, crisp marvelous race conditions. By the end of the event the temperatures had risen to about 60 degrees. It just doesn't get any better!

            Or how about the 1984 Mission Bay 25K? One doesn't ordinarily associate frigid conditions with Mission Bay Park, but this December 22 brought temperatures to just a few degrees above freezing. How cold was it? Well, let's put it this way; at five minutes before the 7 a.m. start, all runners were still in their warm-up suits. The start of the race seemed absolutely frigid. The two-mile mark went by before I felt warmed up, and even then my fingers, nose and ears tingled from the cold. But from that point on my pace picked up and the running seemed gloriously comfortable.

            Mile after mile glided effortlessly by. I didn't even need to stop at an aid station. There was no need to stop; it was too cold to sweat and my water loss must have been minimal. As the finish line approached, I still had plenty of energy. And what a great finishing time: a smashing new personal best. Yes sir, when it comes to long-distance racing, give me cold weather conditions!

            And what great training runs can come at this time of the year. I remember late one December when I was training for the Mission Bay Marathon. A 15-mile training run was scheduled late in the afternoon on a cold, gloomy day. I put on my usual running gear: short-sleeved T-shirt, anklets and flimsy shorts. No sweats here. They might feel better at the start, but after a few miles they're burdensome and uncomfortable.

            Upon exiting the front door I felt the shock. Boy, was it cold; turning back was a strong temptation. But after a half-mile warm-up and a mile of rolling hills, I began to feel great. I picked up the pace and actually enjoyed the flow of frigid air across the skin of my exposed face, arms and legs. The running felt effortless.

    `        As I was running along, I saw a fellow approaching from the opposite direction. He was wrapped up in a heavy wool coat that came down below his knees with a big, tall collar pulled up around his ears. A heavy wool stocking cap was pulled down over his head. Even with all that clothing, he still looked cold.

            As I approached him closely, I could see his eyes peering at my scantily clad body through the gap between his uplifted collar points. As I scissored by, his gruff voice stated bluntly, "Mister, you're crazy!" Well, that's possible.

February 1992 

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