Frostbite 101

1/15/12     For about 14 miles through Manchester, Bolton and Glastonbury, only three cars passed us out on the roads. That's one of the benefits from running at 4:45 on Sunday morning when the mentally balanced and sane are still sound asleep in their warm beds. Not freezing their fingers off in the single-digit temps with the winds making it seem even colder. Once again, I used my training partners as motivation to rise before the sun, convincing Matt to be at my house by 4:45 so we could meet Paul out on the roads near the Glastonbury/Bolton line around 5:30-ish, 5 miles into our trek.

     By the time we met up with Paul, my right foot was bothering me a bit and my fingers felt in the early stages of frostbite, despite wearing two pairs of gloves. I pulled my fingers out of their individual homes and tucked them into my hands to form fists and they warmed up in minutes. But once they did, my mind was left to worry about the aches and pains coming from the top of my right foot. I was hoping it was just because of how tight I usually lace up my shoes, but just to be safe I told Matt and Paul that I’d cut back home on Autumn St. instead of running down to Main St. as planned so I could get home sooner in case I needed to cut my long run for the week short.
     After arriving back in my neighborhood around sunrise, my foot was feeling much better. Hoping it wasn’t just because the freezing cold had numbed it so much, I continued running loops around my block until my miles for the day were complete. Upon taking my gloves off back in the comfort of a warm house, I realized that balling them into fists hadn’t really warmed them up as much as I thought due to the bright pink color both of them had turned. I quickly filled up the sink with hot water and immersed my hands for a few minutes while their natural flesh-tone returned. Time to go out and get some warmer gloves.