Yet, there are moments of winter running joy that you can appreciate even when wearing shoes. Such was last weekend when I took a winter campout excursion to do some ice fishing. The fishing was terrible. Nobody on the lake was catching anything. What a waste of 12 inches of thickness.
But I had brought my back pack and in them were my aquasocks. The sun was out, the new ice on top had melted into puddles everywhere. It would be wet, and I would have to do a lot of maneuvering, but I had changes of socks and my winter boots at our fishing site. I had thermals and shorts as my base layer and I was already feeling ready to shed outer layers. I missed my run the day before to get ready for the trip, what the hell.
It was a short run, under three miles (my longest is five miles). The new, but not yet melted ice crunched underneath me like I was running on a track of cornchips. The wind blew along the melted icewater and the blend of cold and my body heat balanced to a cold but sweat free run as I crossed the lake in my shorts and long johns. I oten tip-toed around large puddles and abandoned fishing holes. It was a cold weather Ragnar training event.
Fishermen did double takes and checked the content of their beers and this weird image of a person in thermal underwear moved into and then out of view of thier fishing sites. We were in a secluded area known mainly to the locals. A couple of sites cheered which wasn't a great compliment as they normally cheer at a fish caught and that just wasn't happening. They just needed something to celebrate.
Frozen lakes are not static. The ice contracts, expands, and becomes more movable as a unit as the day warms. You will hear pops and faint tremors. Sometimes a person drilling a fishing hole with a power auger will even put a fault line in the ice. It's still safe, or at least that's what ice fishermen tell one another during the day. I heard pops and rumbles as I ran. All the while I'm thinking, "I am running across a lake. I am running on water. Suck it, Floridians."
By the time I turned around to run back to my site, my feet were soaking wet. Warm blood pumped through and kept them usable. I am used to cold feet by now. I returned to my site smiling.
I have heard people say they would start running when they see a runner smiling. Those people lie. I was with them that day and I was grinning from ear to ear. It felt great.
My fishing buddies don't get it. I have always been a square peg amongst my fishing neighbors, so they didn't question me. They just smiled shook their heads and at the crazy guy. Perhaps I am, but when we left the place with no fish, I was the only one that felt like it wasn't a bust and they all had at least one story to tell. Win-Win.
Running on a frozen lake is definitely a version of running lite.