Running in the Snow

As I rolled out of bed this morning, I expected the bitter cold, but the weather app promised me snow that wouldn't begin until around 8 or 9 a.m.
I drove my husband to work around 6:30 because I thought it was too cold for him to stand and wait for the bus. It's 19 degrees (-7 C) now and feels like 14 (-10 C). As I pulled back into the garage, dressed in my running clothes, I noticed some snowflakes drifting from the sky.
Usually, I love to run in the snow, especially snow with big fat flakes that cover my jacket, changing it from black to white.
But this morning I was dismayed.
I just had my hair cut and the stylist straightens it for me. I can keep it straight for about a week if I don't do one thing -- get it wet.
Once it's wet, it reverts to a tangle of curls. (Yes, I know everyone wishes they had curly hair but that's because they don't actually have them. Plus, I get many more compliments on my straight hair, which some say makes me look younger, than I do on my curly hair.)
After I saw the snow, I planned to put on a hood that would cover my hair and my neck, but sometime since I last used it (winter 2016) it has gone missing, so I braved the cold without it.
This snow was not big puffy flakes, but instead prickly ice pieces that stung my cheeks and chin. I really wished I had that hood.
As I ran the first half mile, I began negotiating with myself. Maybe I didn't have to go six miles. Maybe I could run three miles. I'd get through the first mile and decide.
By the time I finished the first mile, I'd warmed up some, so continued my regular route. Into mile two, I noticed that my thighs were so cold that they burned. I suppose that might be a sign of frostbite, but I have figured out after years of running, that fat gets really cold. It's no secret that I carry most of my fat in my thighs and hips. They'll stay cold for an hour after the rest of my body has warmed up.
I haven't figured out why fat holds the cold longer, but I assume that it's protecting the rest of my body and my internal organs, like walruses with blubber.
As the burning continued, I debated who I could call to come pick me up. My friend Sheila is always available to help, but her husband just had surgery. She's already taking care of someone. My son Spencer would be asleep and not respond to the phone. My daughter might drive to pick me up, but she's preparing to drive to New Jersey after work today because her boyfriend's grandmother died.
After I had gone through the possibilities, even seeing a man walk out of his front door and contemplating whether he would let me go in to warm up, the burning feeling had faded, so I continued to run.
I did cut it short, ending at five miles and at a Starbucks before I walked home. The snow skittered along the roads and sidewalks in long lines, not yet enough to cover the pavement.
And when I returned home, that coldness in my thighs returned, as if they were big blocks of ice.
At least I've learned enough not to hop right in the shower where I'll scream from the pain of the hot water on my cold skin.
And as for my hair, I've kept it in a tight ponytail braid and won't know until I take it out if the icy snow returned my curls.
I'm hoping for a few more days of straight hair.
How's your weather? Hope you have sunshine and warmth.

Excuses

I've used a lot of excuses over the year to avoid a run. 

It's too hot; it's too cold. 

Too rainy, too humid, too dark, too late in the morning.

My feet hurt, my knees hurt.

My kids' friends might see me on their way to school.

But this is the first time that I've used my hair as an excuse.

I got my hair cut yesterday and the stylist straightened if for me. My hair is so long straight and it looks fabulous. I couldn't risk running, getting sweaty and making my hair curl again. So, no running for me today.

My hair looks too good.

The Trouble With Curly Hair

You hear it all the time, people who wish they had curly hair tell me how lucky I am to have curls.
But if they actually had to live with curly hair, I don't think they'd be so anxious.
The problem with curly hair is that it always looks a little bit celebratory. Think about it. If women are going out for a fancy evening or a special dinner or even dancing, they curl their hair. So how weird is it to wear curly hair when I'm going for a run, or working in the garden, or vacuuming, or arguing with a teenager.The hair looks totally inappropriate -- way too dressy.
I think the French got it right by calling it frisés. Most of the time, my curly hair is frizzy.
The thing is, anyone can have curly hair, all they have to do is get a perm. To have straight hair though is trickier. None of my hair dressers (is that still a word or does that make me sound 80 years old?) have recommended the Brazilian hair straightening process because it uses some sort of chemicals, like formaldehyde.
So if I want straight hair, I have to take the time each day to flat iron it. Not really a problem in the winter time. Even if I run in the morning, I don't sweat much and my hair doesn't react by frizzing or curling, but welcome to the summer and my hair grows and grows.
The first few days after I stop flat ironing, my hair is in a kind of stupor. It curls but doesn't go overboard. By the second or third day, the curls are feeling rebellious. They start to corkscrew, especially on the right side.
My hair, when curly reaches my shoulders. Straightened, it reaches well down my back. As the humidity increases, my hair will look shorter and shorter as it takes on a global quality -- and by that, I mean it looks like a globe, a big round ball.
I tell my hair cutter (could that be the right word? At least I'm not calling her a beautician) that I need the length in the summer to help weigh down the curls.
There was one time I really embraced my curls. About 10 years ago, my hair was long enough that it almost fell into dreadlocks -- long individual curls.
I'd use a clip to pull a few curls back. My hair felt beautiful. When I ran, I'd braid it, and the braid was long enough to pull in front of my shoulder to finish. The braid swished back and forth against my back during my runs, and I had to buy pony tail holders without metal on them because they'd leave abrasions against my back where the end of the braid rubbed. I probably could have put on more clothes instead.
So here we are in May, and my curls are in full swing again. It's time to embrace my wild hair. After all, I can always fall back on the  pony tail.
Have you ever wished you had curly hair? If you have curly hair, what are your secrets to keep it tame?

Hair Issues

Some of you know that I've given up straightening my hair. It just became too time consuming and it felt as useless as trying to rebuild beaches along the Florida coast that keep getting washed away by the storms and the waves.
So I went back to keeping it curly, but I continued to straighten my bangs. I just couldn't let the bangs go curly again. Maybe it looks weird with straight bangs and the rest of my hair curling crazily. But I didn't realize how weird until I was flipping channels one night and saw the mother from 19 Kids & Counting.
I stopped, shocked. Her hair looked like mine, and I did not like the way it looked one bit.

Her hair looks kind of pentecostal freaky. And I can say that since I was raised in a pentecostal church.
So now what?
Do I return to straightening my hair, which is my preference, or do I just make sure I never flip past the mom in 19 Kids & Counting again.
Nevermind, I can't possibly get that image out of my mind.
I'm going to have to start getting up at 4:30 a.m. to straighten my hair again.