Coffee is Spelled R-U-N-N-I-N-G

I bring Denise her hot beverage every morning while she's still in bed. On her non-running days, its tea. On days she runs, its coffee. I hold the Starbucks under her nose until she stirs and announce that its a balmy 44 F.

The day has begun.

By the time we got outdoors, it was 40 F and raining. Our run was one of those "break a mental barrier" moments. This was the coldest rainy run we have experienced. The net result was that we were wet and somewhat at the end, but satisfied with our performances. Staying warm was just a matter of adding an extra layer. The inactivity and physical convenience we presume in our lives are regal in historic context. An hour's physical activity in 40 F. rain is utterly unremarkable through 99% of human history. Yet our neighbors drove by and peered in astonishment; a neighbor on our cul-de-sac remarked on how he admired our dedication. In point of fact, our run was not remarkable at all; it just appeared so from the context of the hyper self-indulgent physical lives the middle class has come to presume is the norm.

Running in any weather Maryland can produce down suburban roads is an utterly unremarkable thing to do within both a global and a historical perspective. It just seems remarkable because we have devolved into a society of utterly indolent hedonists. Running in the rain is a simple, purifying act. It washes away the stigma of living in an overly indolent culture. Humans simply are not built to lead the lives we have come to think is normal. The real normal, the healthy normal, is an unremarkable 6 mile run in 40 degree rain.