Week 9: SHIT! It's Cold!

So, if you haven’t heard, it’s cold. Frigid, some may say. As I’m writing this, our company is actually having our warehouse team halt order placement, entirely. Instead, they’re being asked to cut down the surrounding forest next to our building, and chop firewood by hand. Conservationists be damned.

Of course, that’s not happening. But, if you look at your twitter feed, and close your eyes, you almost feel like we're in the dark ages with how much people are complaining. These tears taste so salty, yet so sweet. Yes, ladies and gentleman, we’ve officially reached that time of year, again: complain about the polar vortex month(s).

By this time, you’re probably exhausted from all of the weather reports, complaining parties, and parties complaining about the complaining parties (we commonly refer to this as “complaint inception”). We all know it’s cold, and we are all suffering. In these times of pain and anguish, it’s important to recognize certain heroes that rise above this strife, in an effort to boost moral. Well friends, allow me to be the first to nominate one of these brave men for recognition: me.

Yes, loyal reader, it is I whom you should turn to this winter. I know what you’re thinking, “Wow! What an incredibly humble man to lead us into the frozen tundra, and its impending doom!” And to that, I say, “I know. You’re welcome.”

Allow me to explain.

Over the course of the past week, I have looked death, and a winter that even the Starks wouldn’t care for, right in the eyes. And, when that winter/death looked deep into my soul, it cowered in fear.

In the deepest and darkest depths of my pride, it saw a man that would not be broken. It saw a man, dressed in black Under Armour tights, with a ski mask that only gave light to my searing eyes, hurtling himself into winter’s clutches, only to writhe himself free through three miles of its wintry tyranny. Was this some sort of running savior? A sorcerer of unspeakable power? A man so emboldened by his awesome beard that he could not possibly have his runs interrupted, except by a snowy playground that was practically begging to be played on? The answer is, yes, to all of these things.

When mother nature, and to a larger extent old man winter, came a-calling, I ran through them like a severely concussed fullback through equally concussed defensive linemen at the goal line of destiny. First, I took down three miles on Monday, then another two on Tuesday, HA! I scoffed at another three on Thursday, and dispatched of an effortless mile on Friday. It was as if I was in a Rocky training montage, bruising my way through white fluffy snow on the mountaintops of Georgia (the Russian one). I stared down Ivan Drago at the end of it all, and uttered these four words, “I must break you.” And break him, I did.

By the time Sunday rolled around, I grew sympathetic for my fallen foes: mother nature, old man winter, and Ivan Drago. I gave them an opportunity to lick their wounds, as I retreated to a treadmill for another three miles. Yet, even in my show of compassion, I hurt them. They thought they could derail me for just a day, believing my mercy was a sign of weakness, but I still emerged victorious with my workout complete.

As I reflect back on my last week of running, I realize that it’s almost unfair of me to take advantage of these conditions in this way. After all, they’re just trying to do their jobs in making every living creature in the Midwest depressed and longing for a slow death.

But, then again, people need a hero. They need a beacon of hope. And if seeing me running through your neighborhood in sub-zero temperatures, decked out in form fitting apparel, is what helps the people, then it’s just too damn bad for my enemies.

I don’t do this for the glory, I do it for you. The common man/runner. Please see the video above for a dramatic reinterpretation of my workouts over the past week.

Also, please donate to the real heroes at St. Jude Children’s Hospital by following this link.

Week 9 Breakdown:

Mileage

Week: 12 Miles

Total: 52 Miles

Daily Mileage/Playlists:

Monday: 2 Miles + 3:00 Walk + 1 Mile

Playlist: Spoon - Gimme Fiction. I had an epiphany when I went out for my first run of the week: Spoon is the ultimate running band. They don’t make high-energy techno, big room dance hall, or hard slamming hip-hop. They just write damn good rock songs. And, when you find yourself trying to enter a rhythm, sometimes that’s all you can ask for. I just feel bogged down sometimes by listening to some type of house/four on the floor/drum machine based EDM while I run. It makes me feel like I’m in Blade Runner, which is actually a lot less fun than it sounds. Spoon give you just enough grit to feel like you can power through, just enough melody to keep you breathing in tune, and infectious lyrics that you can easily get lost in repeating through your mind. Dammit, I love you, Spoon. Also, try to run to “I Turn My Camera On,” and tell me it’s not enjoyable. Go ahead, I’ll wait.

Tuesday: 1 Mile + 3:00 Walk + 1 Mile

Playlist: My Morning Jacket - Z. One time, Rolling Stone came out with a list of the 25 Best Stoner Albums of All Time. It was...interesting. Yeah, let’s go with interesting. Z was one of the albums to be included on that list, and it may be a somewhat righteous pick. MMJ’s fourth studio album is languid, lush, sometimes drowsy, and yet, Jim James and Co. still manage to mix in some heavy guitars and boisterous rock n’ roll when they wish. Stoners would be proud. However, for me, it’s more attractive for the benefits I found it to give my physical activity. This album is up there with Gimme Fiction as being one of those albums I find myself really getting into during my run. Familiar songs, tranquil numbers like “Wordless Chorus,” it all just seemed to fit.

Thursday: 2 Miles + 3:00 Walk + 1 Mile

Playlist: The War on Drugs - “Red Eyes”. To be fair, I didn’t just listen to “Red Eyes” on a continuous loop. This was actually one of those playlists that streaming sites put together in the classification of “workout.” It’s just that all of those playlists can be so repetitive, and full of stuff that you wouldn’t even listen to normally, especially not when you’re working out. But, then, from out of nowhere, the saving grace that is The War on Drugs shone through the darkness. “Red Eyes” is heavy on nostalgia for 80’s-style dad rock. Soaring guitars, gentle synths, add in some horns for good measure, and you’re jamming with a Bob Dylan-meets-Don Henley-meets-80’s synths love-fest. And I mean that as a compliment. When lead singer, Adam Granduciel, emits an audible “WOO” about half way through the track, you want to run through a brick wall, or at least keep going for another couple of miles. It’s impossible not to be inspired by the victorious six-strings ascending above the ground. When it came on, I actually saw goosebumps rise up my arm. Proper motivation, indeed.

Friday: 1 Mile

Playlist: Pardon My Take. PMT is a podcast that features two bloggers from Barstool Sports: PFT Commenter and Dan “Big Cat” Katz. If you know anything about Barstool Sports as a website, then PMT is right in your wheelhouse. For those of you that aren’t privy to the blog, the podcast can be summed up in one word: irreverent. The hosts bounce from topic to topic, made up segment to made up segment, in a spoof of all of the terrible sports-talk shows that you’ve come to know and hate: ESPN’s First Take, Around the Horn, Pardon the Interruption (although I will stand up for PTI). Often times, you’ll find yourself thinking that Commenter and Katz are actually sharper than the big “J” journalists they openly mock, but that’s not really the point. Instead, Katz and Commenter are able to tap into just how idiotic professional sports can be, and how they’re still endearing to us for better, or worse. The duo is genuinely funny, and a lot smarter than they tend to let on.

Sunday: 2 Miles + 3:00 Walk + 1 Mile

Playlist: Bears vs. Packers on fitness room TV. Yes, it was as brutal as it sounds.

-Ryan