The cold weather finally hit Nashville and very suddenly. I forgot how quickly the temperatures change down south sometimes. (I won’t get into climate change here.) One of the reasons for my desire to leave Chicago was the harsh winters. For that reason, I’ve been a little hard on myself this week for not adjusting quickly and just ‘going with the flow.’ After all, I have a car if I want. It’s not going to be as cold as it was in Chicago and not for as long. I’m still having to adjust and here’s why.

That little space on the windshield was hard fought and won, dammit!

I can’t find all of my gear. In Chicago there was such a short break in between winters, that all of my winter stuff was pretty much in the last place I left it. And I knew exactly where that was. Not only have I moved into a new place, but there was a fire, and I’m still not sure if I’ve just misplaced certain thing or if they’re gone forever. (My warm running gloves, for example.)
I didn’t own a car in Chicago. Imagine my surprise when I walked out to go to work Tuesday afternoon and my windshield was still covered in an inch of snow and ice because it had been parked in the shade of the building all day. I ended up with frozen hands from scraping the car off with plastic discount cards enough so that I could move it into the sun while the defrost was on and continue the work. My hands were in so much pain that it was almost as if I had biked in to work without gloves on. An ice scraper is now on our shopping list.
There were no hills in Chicago. I am terrified of the ice on the hills. Terrified. Biking, running, driving, doesn’t matter. Our parking lot straddles two hills and to get out of the parking lot, we have to go up another, incredibly steep hill.
They prep for the precipitation in Chicago. In Nashville, I was told that if they do salt the roads, it’s generally in reaction to, and not in preparation for, snow and ice. The ice situation is real and unattended to. Again, I live in a valley. Not only must I climb an incredibly steep hill to get out of my complex, I must then descend the other side of said hill to join the rest of Nashville.
Being hit. In Chicago, there were less bikers in the winter, but there were still winter bikers. I was rarely the only one out on the streets. In Nashville, I’m often the only biker on the streets in fine weather, must less below freezing weather. Cars often don’t see us. They’re not used to people on bikes, even in the bike lanes. And yes, I have my helmet, my flashy vest and my blinking lights, front and back. But there are still a billion people out on their phones not knowing which lane they belong in. (And it’s a really problem here, often directions will instruct you to get onto a highway and then immediately cross five lanes of traffic to take the very next left turn. If nothing else, Nashville creates defensive drivers… or berserkers.)
I am genuinely afraid of the cold. I wish I weren’t, but I am. It is very difficult for me to keep my hands and feet warm. I have Reynaud’s, which makes the cold very painful at times.

Me after biking to work in Chicago, April 2018. I thought I was done with this.

I made myself bike Thursday morning. It was 25. “Feels like 30!” Better than Chicago where 25 always ‘felt like’ 12. It was fairly miserable. Nothing worse than Chicago, but worse than what I thought I would be enduring in Nashville in mid November. We hit a record for the earliest day below freezing in Nashville this year. We also hit a record for the latest day above 90. I know, I said I wasn’t going to talk about climate change.

I am also probably a little traumatized by how cold the Half Marathon was last Saturday. It was different than big races in Chicago where you had to get there an hour early just to make sure you got to your gate on time and had a chance to go to the bathroom before the start. They recommended I get there at 6. I think we got there around 6:15 or 6:30 and basically stood for an hour shivering for no reason. I couldn’t feel my legs until mile four and my fingers were in excruciating pain (Raynaud’s) until mile three. (Fortunately someone had given my mom some hand warmers that she passed on to me, otherwise it would have been much worse.) But I remember telling myself “run the mile you’re in” whenever I would think about how much longer I was going to be cold. Elements considered, I’m happy with how I did.

But I’ve been scared of the cold since then. It’s slightly irrational. I’m not going to be out there for more than half an hour, unless I go for a longer run. I’ve opted not to sign up for another race thus far, so I’m not training for anything. It’s simply fear of the unknown. I made myself bike on Thursday. It hurt on the way there, it was nice on the way back.

I took this two Christmases ago while sitting at the airport in Alabama on my way back to Chicago. I believe I was weeping at the time.

I started bike commuting during one of Chicago’s longest, hottest summers. It was the summer I was on unemployment, doing a lot of theatre and building up my dream of becoming a full time fitness professional. It was the summer I got out of a toxic relationship with a self proclaimed ‘nice guy’ who refused to commit to me (i.e., tell family that I existed after years of dating) and met my husband. I loved the freedom of that summer.

I bike commuted for two years and decided to bike through the winter the same year I became a full time fitness professional and quit the law job that I had been working at two days a week. This is significant only because it meant traveling to multiple locations many days a week rather than having at least two days where I stayed in one warm place. That same winter, Chicago decided to alter their public transit system. I won’t go into the ins and outs, but basically it was ridiculous and made it more difficult for me to take the train. It was also the worst winter in history, with three (or four?) polar vortexes making it into Chicago. As it was my first winter biking, I also didn’t have the best gear.

Somehow I made it through. I was in severe pain through a lot of it. My hands and toes were worse as they warmed up than they were on the rides. I had three early morning classes a week before the sun came up. When they announced the third vortex, I remember just consciously saying ‘screw it, I’m drinking my way through this’ and eating and drinking whatever I wanted. I couldn't believe it when the scale said 116 pounds. I was so cold that my body couldn’t hang on to the calories.

Someone commented once that I now know how to lose weight if I really want to and I replied (and still maintain) that it’s not worth it. It’s not. I’d rather starve if I actually needed to drop weight.

I took this from my bedroom window on Tuesday morning. Thank goodness it’s all gone now.

I get incredibly stressed when it’s cold. It’s probably due to some of these things. I said twice that I wasn't going to talk about climate change, but it is part of the reason that I feel guilty when I don’t bike. I also genuinely like being a bike commuter and one of the reasons that I wanted to move was so that I could do it more often. I stress when I don’t bike. But the fear of the cold is real.

Maybe it’s a normal thing, maybe it’s due to that first winter, when I pretty much had to bike and when I was so cold I lost seven pounds. This morning I ran outside for the first time since the half marathon. (I did two treadmill runs earlier this week.) It was okay! Like everything else, it’s going to be an adjustment, but I know I’ll get through it. And I do see some 60 degree highs in the not to far future forecast. Here’s hoping I don’t see snow again this year!

6 reasons that I still dislike winter, or Chicago Traumatized Me