Winter runners…

With the return of winter, I have begun to notice “winter signs’ that make me smile and give me heart in the cold time. One of those ‘signs’ is the presence of winter runners. When I was much younger, I was a winter runner myself. In the cold and dark of a Winnipeg winter – often as cold as -40 C – I would don my gear and run for two hours each morning. I would see other runners leaving steam trains behind them as they jogged along. We would acknowledge each other with a raised hand or a wave. We never spoke: who had wind for talk? Who would breath in extra cold air? It was difficult to tell who was who, because most of us worse face masks or ‘balaclavas’ to allow us to breath without gasping in the frigid air. There was something exhilarating about defeating the prairie weather and keep up our mobility, warm within our long johns and wind suits.

Over the past few years of walking in the dark, up to 5 km each morning, I have rarely seen anyone making foot tracks in the snow, braving the northwest wind. Now and then, an intrepid dog walker, but no one else. Until a few years ago, when I was overtaken by a trio of black clad women, running gracefully along, leaving steam trails as I did of old. The first time I saw them, I was shocked! I never expected them to be there. I would see them now and then, either because they ran intermittently, or because they chose a different route. (I walk the same route each day, on packed snow or bladed sidewalk, under streetlights, so I can where my feet go, a nod to my eighty years.)

Every time I see them, they give my heart a lift. We have never spoken, at least not in winter. In summer, I call out a “hello” to them, but they rarely reply…it’s what runner do. But in winter, I lift my arm, or wave, and usually one or more raise an arm in reply. No words…no extra wind.

The other morning, after the return of winter, I was on the second leg of my walk when a figure in black tights and a fluorescent lime green jacket loomed out the darkness. Her face was uncovered…it wasn’t more than 12 degrees below the zero mark…and she had her trotting dog on a leash beside her. That was probably a wise move for a woman running alone in the dark, even at -15C. But I had the presence of mind to raise my arm in the characteristic runner’s greeting. She raised her arm in response. Just after she passed me, I heard her utter one word: “Heel!” A dog wouldn’t respond to a wave, only a word. She needed her companion to stay focused, rather then display some interest in me.

I went on my way, quite uplifted by that brief meeting. It struck me as at least ‘interesting’ that all the runners I see, especially in winter, are female. I’m not sure what that means, but it makes me smile. The “weaker sex” appears to be willing to brave the elements to maintain their fitness, or routine, or camaraderie. The males roar past in their over-sized pickup trucks, in a hurray to grab a coffee at Tim Horton’s, or hit the highway to get to the job.

Winter runners…a sign of hope that makes me smile, even in the sold and dark of winter.