Today was like run­ning the gaunt­let, wind, ice and sub­ur­ban soc­cer moms doing kerb-checks in their Ford Plan­et-Eaters while mak­ing their week­ly trip to the West Side Mar­ket. I had a sev­en mile run, but only com­plet­ed four and change; the gril­lionth time I almost died from a wind gust push­ing me off a bridge or get­ting clocked in the face by an ice-rimed plas­tic bag I decid­ed to call it quits. I was warm the whole time, thanks to my lay­ers of var­i­ous syn­thet­ic stuff, and I found that my fleece vest from work is actu­al­ly use­ful. My ass is always cold by the end of a run, how­ev­er.