Sloggers...

Above my desk is a copy of a calendar page that shows Boston sunrise and sunset times for every day in January. Today, January 5, sunrise was at 7:13 a.m., same as yesterday, same as tomorrow. Well, surely it's not exactly the same. If my calendar gave sunrise times with seconds, I believe that it would show that today's sunrise was just slightly earlier than yesterday's -- the beginning of a long, slow slog through the winter months to more light.

It has been nearly four weeks since the day of earliest sunset. Since about December 12th, we've been gaining a few seconds of afternoon light every day. Sunset today will be at 4:25 p.m., fourteen minutes later than December's nadir.

Why does any of this matter? Well, it doesn't really except that watching the sunrise/sunset is one of the mental games that I play to stay motivated through the slogging reality of outdoor training at this time of year. I envy those who delight in cross-country skiing, and I admire those who can head indoors day after day for runs on treadmills. I'm not nearly as resourceful, and I pretty much just keep running during the winter, with the addition of the once-a-week indoor track workout and the occasional indoor race to get me out of the cold.

It would make sense to swim or get on a bike trainer -- so why don't I do it? Habit? Stubbornness? The secret hope that winter running will toughen me up? Probably it's some combination of all of these.

There's also this: running through the winter only deepens my appreciation and fondness for my fellow sloggers. I still have very happy memories of last winter's long runs, meeting in the parking lot of the Shaw's Supermarket in Auburndale and setting out for the wilds of Weston and Lincoln.

In the last three weeks, all three of my Sunday long runs have taken place in the snow or rain. The first was a memorable run with Terry and Tyler around and around the winter wonderland of the Bentley College campus -- probably averaging no better than eight minute miles, if that. The following week was a soggy twelve miles with Liz, our shoes becoming three times as heavy from the puddles by the time we finished. Last Sunday was a ninety-minute jaunt with Noah, seeking out roads in Newton and Needham that had been plowed and salted as the snow continued to fall throughout the morning. After each of these runs, I had a pile of wet clothes to go through the laundry and sodden shoes to dry by stuffing them with old newspapers. Nothing remarkable here -- nothing really impressive or physically demanding, just a few more examples of mindless slogging away, trying to get in the required weekly mileage. But thank goodness for the company!

Of all the mental tricks we use to get through the winter with our psyches and our training intact, maybe the most effective is our ability to just shut down the higher functions of our brains and become oblivious to the obstacles that winter wants to throw in our way. What's the alternative? As Jonathan says, blizzard or no, the intrepid must run, so...

So the runs aren't very fast or super long, but day-by-day they get done. And every day now, sunrise will be a little earlier, sunset a little later. And one day, we'll wake up and we'll be fast again.

At least that's the secret hope, dormant for now, but not entirely forgotten as we gather in small groups and forage for roads with good footing, where we can slog away for a few more miles.