It is said the native people in arctic have a thousand words for snow. It is also said that that is a load of frozen bull manure. But it feels like is should be true. You’d come up with a lot of ways to describe the thing you see the most of, simply so that you can accurately describe it to someone else.

Parents of toddlers need several hundred different words for tantrums, maybe. Parents of teens could write a thesaurus full of synonyms for sass. And runners who live where the air hurts their face have more than a dozen phrases for ice, snow, and cold. Or, if not actual words, definite opinions about the variety of conditions waiting on the other side of the door.

Or, if not every runner, this one most definitely does.

I’m very much an Elsa when it comes to cold. I have a variety of jackets, tights, fleece-y pants and tops, hats, mittens, gloves, and an about-to-rob-a-bank balaclava. I buy chemical hand warmers in bulk so that I can toss one in whichever pocket is holding my phone. What cold does to an Apple battery is a lesson I learn at least once a year.

I do have limits, mind. If the weather apps warn about life-threatening wind chills, I’ll rearrange my schedule to run on a different day. There’s unbothered by cold and there’s just plain dumb. I’m lucky to have an indoor track to escape to, even if it is eight laps to the mile. 

Snow is fine, especially when it’s fresh. I have a whole drawer full of yaktraks and microspikes. Running in them isn’t my favorite thing ever but it’ll work for shorter runs, especially when you are starting to get a little Jack-in-The-Shining after a blizzard. Plus, there is no quiet like a freshly fallen snow quiet. It is one of my favorite non-sounds ever.

I can work with, around, and through most of the next few months. Give me snow! I’ll take the cold! I’m down with a non-killing wind! Heck, all three are fine — and all are better than a single 80 degree day. 

Bundled-up runner giving a thumbs up

The sidewalk behind me is perfection.

But the one type of winter weather I cannot abide is what we have right now: it’s just cold enough that nothing ever melts and three-quarters of the local sidewalks have been shoveled. It’s an oddly specific time of year but one that would be in my lexicon of winter words. I can’t mention what I call it in public, tho. A girl has a reputation to uphold.

What? Stop laughing.

Here’s why it is so terrible out there right now: if everything was covered with snow, I could trak up and go. Running on bare pavement in spikes, however, is the worst so I have to pick my footgear knowing that it will be wrong every few meters as I go from bone dry sidewalk to snow to ice to dry again. 

With the temperature hovering near the freezing mark, spots that thaw out a little during the day freeze up again overnight and the resultant ice is slicker than a car salesman. Because our days are mostly gray now, this thin ice is hard to see until you’re right up on it, which means that you’re on your arse before you even know it’s a hazard. 

Bundled up mother runner giving a thumbs down

This sidewalk makes me sad, not because it’s covered in snow but because it followed the sidewalk that was shoveled and dry. Consistency is all I ask.

I was reminded of black ice last week. I leaned outside to snag the mail and did an unscheduled tumbling pass down our front stairs. Nothing broken on me or the house, fortunately, but the Soviet judge only awarded a 3. A grievance has been filed.

Despite my loathing of this particular combination of winter weather, I’m still getting out there. Not only is it a huge mental health boost (and I feel like a total badass after a long run in sub-freezing temps), I have a half marathon in Vegas (baby) to train for. If nothing else, late March in the desert will be warmer than here, right? And I won’t be hopscotching over black ice? Lie to me if you must.

To all of my fellow frozen mother runners, I see you and I feel you. We have so many words right now for all of the different kinds of cold, snow, and ice that greets us every morning. The only way out is through.