Chew Before You Breathe

The theme for the month of January in Utah is Fog/Smog/Haze. You turn on the news to listen to the weather and the words "inversion","haze", "smog", etc. are used probably used in the same quantity of tooth whitener that was used on the overly cheerful meteorologist's teeth. It's a daily word and I'm sure that the weather people can only put a positive spin on it so far before it just gets old. I tell my children to make sure that they chew before they breathe.

Today's weather must have matched my mood because when the alarm went off at 6:30 am I definitely did not feel the burning desire to leap out of bed and into the shower. It could possibly be related to the large popcorn and 32 oz soda that I had instead of a meal last night, but instead I am attributing this lack of enthusiasm to the weather.

I got out of bed, looked out the window and grimaced. The tell tale signs of an impending foggy morning was out. The slighty hazy sky, the overly frosted over car windows. The forecast called for mid-40s which gave me hope that maybe, just maybe our run would be in above freezing temps. Seeing the status of the weather, I pulled out the extra layers.

Why are there no clothing options that say "fogproof" or "haze resistant" on them? Is it because fog is so microscopic that it penetrates even the tightest of fabric? Or is it that someone just hasn't figured the marketing potential out on this fabric? If the running store offered a running jacket that was "fogresistant" and "waterproof" I would be first in line.

I arrived at the meeting spot and the conditions had not improved much. When I stepped out of the van, I realized that no amount of layers was going to make a difference today. It was the bitter, wet, foggy cold that penetrates every layer I have. My mizuno gloves are NOT fogproof.

The fog got thicker and thicker as we ran until we had climbed enough that we emerged from the fog like a pack of college football players emerging from the stadium tunnel. It was breathtaking. In fact, I think I took my first real breath of the run at that point.

We turned around at mile 4 and enjoyed a mile of fog-free running. My fingers had warmed up, I unzipped my jacket and was getting into a groove. At mile 5, we hit the wall and immediately I zipped back up my jacket, rubber my hands together and grimaced. By mile 8, we couldn't see more than 20 feet in front of us. The usual post-run chatter didn't happen. Instead it was jump in the car, turn on the heater and wave good bye to the others.

I'm glad February is almost here.