The Cold Weather Running Survival Guide

I'm a native of sunny California, where warm clothes, scarves, and gloves are more fashion items than a necessity. Where I'm from, seasons are not defined by a distinct change in weather patterns, but rather by the types of produce available at the local grocery store and by whether you're donning a football jersey or baseball cap to show love for the home team. I've moved from the single-season state, though, and have been a four-season transplant for last three years. But even after three winters, I'm still thrown by freezing temperatures and all this cold white stuff that shows up around the holidays.  So when a friend asked me, as a trainer and a runner, how to deal with icy and treacherous sidewalks as part of winter running, my initial reaction was, "Well, that's easy! Don't go running until it's warm outside! And if you must, grumble under your breath a bit, bundle up, and try not to slip." Clearly, this advice was not what my friend was looking for, so I thought about it a bit longer and realized that I've asked myself that same question a handful of times. My general tendency when I do find myself posing that question, however, is to give in to my California-based instinct that causes me to automatically recoil from any sub-55 degree weather. In short, I usually skip the run altogether, and eventually convince myself that rough-housing with my kids or doing some yoga poses will suffice until Spring.

But in all seriousness: by definition, as runners, a large majority of us want to maintain a certain level of training. Some of us want to be able to jump back into racing in the Spring without any lag time to get back to where we were before it cold. Some of us want to have the ability to apathetically pull on a favorite pair of jeans without having to worry if they make our butts look big. (Ok maybe that one's just me.) And most of us have acquired at least some degree of affinity for the endorphin flood that inundates our systems by the time we stop the timer on our watches. So what DO we do about icy sidewalks and uncomfortably cold winter weather?

Answer: No, you don't have to be as extreme as this guy! But we can deal with it, make lemonade of out lemons, and somehow make the snow, ice, and painfully cold temperatures a non-issue. And here's how:

There's no such thing as bad weather, just bad clothing: Whoever came up with this observation was clearly a genius. At this point, there's not a whole lot we can't find to defend ourselves against the elements. But it's good to know what to look for:

• DO wear layers: It might seem like lower temperatures call for heavier clothes and more of them, but too many heavy layers can cause excessive sweating and put you more at risk for hypothermia. Hypothermia for distance runners is actually more common and dangerous than one might think, especially on runs lasting an hour or more. 
• Do NOT try to convince yourself that layers are for weenies! It may feel unnatural and limiting to bundle with layers if you're not used to it, but use your best sense and fight the urge to seem tougher than you are by skipping the layers altogether. (We already know you're tough - you're a runner!)
• Do NOT worry about looking fashionable: Ditch your self image and focus on keeping your body comfortable. You might look padded and goofy, but you won't be so fashionable if you get frostbite or hypothermia because you gave in to vanity.
• Your first layer: The clothes closest to your body should be able to sufficiently wick away moisture and sweat, which will help maintain a normal core body temperature and prevent hypothermia. Fabrics that do this best are generally made from synthetic fibers. Look for garments made of Polypropylene, wool, wool/synthetic blends, and treated polyesters like Capilene. Men may also want to consider briefs with strategically placed insulation to maintain comfort during and after cold weather outing.
• Your outer layer: Letting heat out and keeping cold from getting in is the name of the game, so you're best bet is to go with something made out of breathable, wind-repellent fabric. Look for Gortex or nylon, and try to find jackets with covering or closure over zippers to keep out any extra cold air or rain.
• Cotton is NOT your friend! Cotton has poor insulating ability, which continues to decrease as it becomes wet, so if you get stuck in the rain, you're pretty much SOL. Cotton may be the fabric of our lives, but if the phrase "braving the cold" comes to mind when planning your run, you'd be better off incorporating a few more fabrics into your life. 
• Wear hat and gloves: Maintaining a normal body temperature is key, so it would be a good idea to cover up two spots that are infamous for losing body heat quickly: head and hands. Cotton gloves are do-able in cold weather, but can definitely get cold quickly by soaking up sweat (yes, your hands sweat too!) Just keep in mind that, in normal conditions and compared to other main body parts, your fingers and hands may already have slightly lower levels of circulation simply because they're appendages. By leaving your poor little fingers exposed therefore further decreasing blood flow to that area, they're much more susceptible to frostbite. 
• You know what they say about big shoes ... they must be covering up some thick socks! Which is what you may want to consider in really cold temperatures. Really cold weather may call for not just one, but two pairs of socks, so cover your feet like you would the rest of your body: an inner polypropylene layer covered by an outer wool layer. If the weather's not too ridiculous and you're only going a short or moderate distance, you could probably get away with light cotton.

Ok swell, so now you won't freeze to death and will probably stay pretty dry. But during cold winters, you'll probably run across some ice ... But instead of running across or over it, you'll probably be sliding or slipping across it. (And I can tell you from experience that it's almost impossible to cover up slipping on ice the way you can play off tripping on the sidewalk by pretending you really did mean to start jogging instead of walking right then.) I suggest just sticking to running.

• Ice, ice, baby! Running through snow can be kinda fun, and is actually a great workout. But the same canNOT be said for ice. If you don't want to have to run with elbow pads, a helmet, and a big pillow strapped to your booty, I'd recommend doing your best to avoid ice-running altogether. Ice can be really tough to see in lower light, like early morning and evening, so try to get your workout in during the day. Just in case, for extra traction to help grip any unforseen ice and prevent slips and spills, you can buy ice traction slip ons. This fabulous little invention slips onto the bottoms of your shoes and help you "claw" the ground a bit as you run - kinda like the chains you use for car tires in the snow. They're pretty cheap (I think mine were $2) and easy to find at most sports equipment stores or online (just put "ice traction slip ons" into Google and voila.) 

Ok, so you're sufficiently layered - but not too much and not in cotton. It's midday, so you should be able to see and avoid hidden ice patches and you're even sporting your spiffy ice traction slip ons. Good to go? 

Not so fast. Consider a few extra key points before heading out:  

• Warm up and cool down: Before you go, warm up: do some jumping jacks, run around the living room, or have a dance party in front of the mirror - any of which will help get your blood flowing and loosen up your muscles. Warming up with help lessen the blow that'll hit your legs as you step out the door and will reduce your risk of injury as you run. Start out slowly to warm up gradually, also as a way to avoid pulls and strains. When you finish your run, don't skip stretching. Extreme temperatures make it harder for your muscles to safely respond to strenuous exercise, so give them the love they need and stretch them out after logging some mileage. 
• Start by running INTO the wind: Wind will undoubtedly make any temperature feel even colder and, since we all know evaporation is a cooling process, if you're sweaty and run into the wind, the air will feel a LOT colder than you'd planned for. By running into the wind when you're less sweaty (which I'm assuming is at the beginning of your run), you can avoid getting unnecessarily, and even dangerously, chilled.
• Stay hydrated! True or false: In cold weather, you sweat less, which means you don't need to drink as much water. FALSE! Staying hydrated for cold weather exercise is just as important, if not more so, than working out in moderate or warm temperatures. Even if you don't feel like you're really sweating, your perspiration levels don't decrease just because it's cold, especially if you're properly layered. And along with any fluids lost through sweat, you'll also lose large amounts of fluid through exhaled water vapor, which happens when the colder temperature of the air causes its humidity to drop closer to zero. 

NOW you're set! So, if you're still itching to get out for a run in the cold, it may mean having to splurge on some new running garb so you don't freeze your patooties off. And even if a winter run means you'll probably have to trudge through some patches of snow, or maybe even get a chance to practice your ice skating moves ... minus the skates ... I'm pretty sure you'll survive. Who knows - you might actually like it and be crazy enough to try it again tomorrow.

If I'm a runner, can I still walk?

I'm a runner. I don't know that I've ever characterized myself as a "jogger" (that term always lacked a certain sense of internal drive for me), and I certainly am NOT a walker. When I'm running, I allow myself to do just that: run. And only that. Anything else feels like a failure. Now of course, as a fitness trainer, I would never snub my nose at any type of activity or exercise ... ever! I do whatever I can to encourage movement and forever tout the laundry list of benefits associated with physical activity. I even tell my daughters that simply playing at the park is a fabulous way to stay healthy, even when that finds them perched effortlessly on the swings and my pushing leaves me as the one reaping said exercise benefits.

But when it comes to my own fitness, setting out for a run is usually my chance to test my own fortitude and grit and, while I do occassionally enjoy a relaxing trot around the neighborhood as a way to unwind, I more typically get home from a run having expected to have left most of myself behind on the pavement. Each new run is a comparison to the run before it. These comparisons allow me to guage my personal success, which I tend to measure not only in terms of my ability to clobber and quel the challenge ahead, but also by how well I manage to eliminate that pesky little nagging voice that pops up right when things feel just a slight bit uncomfy; the same voice that constantly threatens to thwart my best intentions by throwing out excuses or sowing seeds of doubt. When I first step out my door and double knot my pair of Asics, I'm not really interested in the scenery. When I start up my watch (or lately, the clock on my iPhone), the rest of the world slips away. I watch the road open up ahead of me and I focus on just me, gradually settling into a comfortable rhythm that will eventually feel like floating.

Don't get me wrong: I know how to stop and smell the flowers just as well as the next guy. But if I'm dilly dallying with flowers, I don't get as much of a chance to prove to myself that my personal strength is not just an obscure term I can throw out when I'm feeling the need for reassurance. When I run, I am instinctually aware that I really am unrelentingly strong, and that strength lives as a deep-seated and familiar force that I call on to deal with life's unexpected curveballs. I strive to assure my fitness clients of their own inherent ability to tackle anything that may stand in their way, and so my runs are my chance to "walk my walk" (although, as I mentioned before, I'm not a walker!)

All that being said, today is Sunday. On Sundays, everyone seems to hold onto each moment a little bit longer before Monday starts to menacingly inch its way onto the scene. Sundays offer a universal sense of calm - the world lets out a communal sigh. Even the "type A" personalities, those of us who might not otherwise know how to function were we to find ourselves with one too many extra minutes to just sit and breathe, conversely have no qualms with lounging lackadaisically in front of a football game for hours on end, or else puttering around nonchalantly, tinkering at tasks that generally get put aside and end up waiting for that improbable extra chunk of time required to get completed. And on Sundays, that intensely focused running I usually insert into my schedule turns more into gliding along, completely carefree, carried effortlessly on a gentle breeze.

So for my Sunday, today's uniform was nothing more than baggy pj's, and the name of the game was casually and lazily putzing, cleaning, organizing, and munching little bits here and there, all while half-heartedly catching up on the most recent season of "Bones." I had been planning to get out for a run - one without any time constraint or any pressure to "give it everything I've got" because that's what runs feel like on Sundays - but just kept letting myself get distracted with yet another chore or mindless job. Finally checking on the time to see how much of my Sunday I had left to hold onto, I was shocked to see my clock read 6:00! I had to go now, or forever hold my peace. Luckily, the early fall evenings in Northern Colorado offer a perfect opportunity to absorb the cooler temps and simultaneously chase the last tired rays of sleepy sunshine just before daylight hits the hay. So, still embodying Sunday's characteristic sense of indifference and casual calm, I pulled on my t-shirt and running shoes, twisted my hair into a messy ponytail, and lethargically grabbed whatever I might need for today's excursion. I realized as soon as I stepped out the door, though, that I had waited a hair too long in getting my rear in gear, and had now passed that point of no return. This is the point where you're not just relaxed, you're devoid of any real motivation or energy. I felt slightly annoyed at the realization that I actually had no problem with turning right back around to slip my slippers back on and finish out my Sunday as lazily as I had spent it thus far.

Well! This non-commital attitude just wouldn't do! What kind of runner was I if I couldn't automatically turn on that familiar competitive mindset I was so sure I needed to make this run count?


Maybe if I just start with a brisk warm-up walk before moving into my running rhythm ... Hmmm, this speed actually feels really relaxing. I like this pace. Wait, what?? Who said that? I don't walk! I don't put on my running clothes and my running shoes ... to walk! Ok, enough of this half-assed farting around. Time to get the show on the road! 


Thus, with great effort, I forced myself forward to half fall, half jump into something that vaguely resembled a running stride. But while I'm usually used to flipping a switch and simultaneously acknowledging when it's "go time," my present attempt to maintain my pace and keep running ... (we use the term run loosely  - more like a plod, or a lope, or a heavy, lumbering cascade of footsteps that probably looked like continuous stumbling) ... was turning more into a frantic fumble in the dark. Apparently, I had forgotten where that switch was ... there was no "go time" on my side of the street. Arg!

Wait just a minute! I'm the trainer, aren't I? ... Shouldn't I be the one who can push myself whenever I need to, whenever the going gets tough? This "run" will NOT be a walk ... it will NOT be a jog! I'm a runner for goodness sakes! 


Well, that less-than-motivational pep talk I gave myself did seem to briefly get me running again, but only for another mile and a quarter. And by this point, my stride was so awkward and uncomfortable, I decided it wouldn't hurt to take a teeny tiny walking break (preferably on a quiet side street where nobody really saw me walk), so I could re-adjust and then start up again to finish. But as soon as I slowed down for this teeny tiny break, my gait automatically (and without permission!) slowed to a relaxed walk, a stroll even ... almost a saunter. And with that slower pace came an onslaught of those pesky little negative voices - those ones that I typically manage to silence throughout my run - chiding me almost defeaningly, persuading me to doubt my own toughness. I felt myself getting increasingly knocked down ... by me! I could feel those nagging little voices getting geared up to dish out a (not so nice!) lecture, and I felt the words "failure" and "weak" start to creep into my consciousness. Suddenly, I was sure I could no longer call myself a runner. How could I? Here I was, walking, and, by doing so, ultimately failing to push myself hard enough. 

(This is totally what I felt like!)

But just as quickly and forcefully as those vindictive voices had rudely inserted themselves into my internal dialogues and sucessfully started the process of undermining the self-confidence I'd been sure was practically indestructible, they disappeared - they were hit head-on by a very obvious realization (the kind where you feel like hitting yourself on the forehead for having been confused in the first place). I just about laughed outloud at my own ridiculousness.  I can't be a runner if I happen to have a slower day? Uhh, FALSE! Who says that's the rule?? Nobody can be "on" ALL the time ... some of us have to take a breather here and there. And progress is rarely linear (duh - I know this!) ... so why would I be the exception?? Sheesh! Get a grip!


Ohh, I get it. And out of nowhere, the rest of the world faded back into view, the smells of early fall BBQ's wafted flirtatiously by, and I resolved to allow myself to walk the entire way home. And I liked it! Rather than darting, dashing, hurrying, bolting, storming, charging, or going like a bat out of hell, I was plenty content just to stroll, saunter, amble, march sluggishly, and even throw in a dance move between strides here and there (which is only a good idea if you're a decent dancer ... I am not).

So with my slow, yet steady walk, I decided that runners aren't runners because they only run and NEVER walk ... we're runners because we know we can urge ourselves forward, steadily yet quickly, gracefully and with fierce drive, through seemingly impossible odds. But every once in a while, it IS kinda nice to slow down, dawdle a bit, and revel in the moment. And besides, just getting out the door is half the battle - walking, jogging, or running, we've already won!

Keep up the good walk ... I mean, work!