One of the first questions I’m asked by those who are just now learning about my long-time commitment to recreational running is, “Do you run outside in the winter?” When I answer “Yes,” the reactions range from admiration to incredulity to reproach. “Aren’t you afraid of falling?”, they might ask. “Isn’t it bad for your lungs?” “Do you wear special devices on your shoes for traction?” The answers to those questions are “A little.” “No” and “no”.
Granted, this winter has been kinder than most to those of us who run outdoors in all seasons. Almost every snowfall has been followed a few days later by a thaw, which means the sidewalks and streets have been bare and dry as often as not. But, over the years, I’ve run in every form of winter weather short of full-on blizzards and ice storms. There’s something exhilarating about challenging the elements, facing up to the cold and the snow and the uncertain footing as a metaphor for overcoming obstacles in life. In some respects, running outside in the winter is more pleasant that running in the heat of the summer, as you can adjust the number of layers you wear according to the temperatures—but there’s a limit to how far you can go with removing layers to get cool in the summer! I’m still often reluctant to take that first step out the door, but once on the trail I love to make the first footprints in the fresh snow, listen to the crunch of snow under my feet, and soak in the beauty of snow softly falling—like the Sunday recently when every branch of every tree was covered with two or three centimetres of wet snow.
After getting the layering of clothing right, and choosing shoes with the grippiest soles, I’ve found that the keys to staying upright in winter are to shorten your stride and maintain a steady pace. Shortening my stride keeps my centre of gravity more directly over my feet; maintaining a steady pace allows my forward momentum to compensate for any slippage of my feet. I also need to keep my eyes on the trail to watch for dips or bumps that might affect my centre of gravity, or patches of glare ice created by snow melting the day before and freezing overnight. When going around corners, I come to nearly a complete stop before making the turn.
I can’t remember a winter when I didn’t fall at least once…
In spite of these techniques and all the other wisdom and experience gained through 17 years of running through the winter, I don’t always manage to stay upright. I can’t remember a winter when I didn’t fall at least once, but so far (knock on wood!) I’ve been spared serious injury in any of my falls. I had a dramatic fall on New Year’s Day this year. Running downhill, I hit a patch of black ice right at a spot where the paved trail sloped away to the left as well as down, and both feet flew out from under me. I went airborne for a split second before landing first on my hip and then on my elbow—thankfully, avoiding a blow to my head. I laid there on the ground for a few seconds after I fell, assessing my situation, confirming that nothing was broken, before I pulled myself together and finished my run.
I had to face down the fear of another fall the next time I stepped out the door to run, but if I was to let the risk of a fall prevent me from running in the winter, I would have stopped 16 years ago. It’s like most things in life: Risk is inherent in the vigour, vitality, opportunity and adventure that make life worth living. Anyone seeking to start a new business, or bring a new idea to market, or pursue a new vocation, needs to embrace risk. Jeff Bezos has said, “If you come up with a business idea and there’s no risk there, it’s probably already being done and being done well.” And it is the same with relationships—having been disappointed once (or more), it would be easy to accept isolation as the safest way forward. Yet, the risk associated with vulnerability is often the only way to move toward a relationship that will provide lasting joy, fulfillment and acceptance.
Risk is inherent in the vigour, vitality, opportunity and adventure that make life worth living.
Staying upright in winter—as with any other risky venture in life—is not guaranteed. But, as I consider the benefits to be gained, the costs associated with confining myself to a place of safety outweigh the potential perils. And I am not stepping out blindly, or uninformed—nor should the entrepreneur, or the person seeking a meaningful connection through a relationship. I’ve learned from my past experiences and from those on a similar journey, those who share my passion. So tonight, even though Environment Canada has issued a blowing snow advisory for our area and is forecasting wind gusts up to 60 km/h, Judy and I will head out for a 13 km run with thirty or forty other courageous people from our running group. It’s either that or the treadmill.
And you: Adjust your stride, if necessary; proceed with caution; but don’t hesitate to step out of the safe place into the next adventure of life.
Text and photos © 2020 Ed Wilson
