Now that's dedication

I know that for ultramarathon runners who think nothing of tackling a 100-mile slog across desert or arctic plains, training up rocky hill and down bog-ridden dale this morning's Siberian temperatures would have been as nothing.

For this recreational runner though pounding the pavements as the icy wind crept under my hat and my breath rose in crystalline clouds in front of me proved my dedication to running. I will admit that as I couldn't feel my fingers, toes or the tip of my nose I did rather wonder just why I was out on this ice cold morning. It was bloody freezing.

Then I rounded the corner and stepped into in a golden patch of sunlight. For a moment a shred of warmth licked at my running tights and I glanced up into the aqua blue sky to see a brave sun glaring out onto this cold day. OK, this was why I was out and about, because stuck in my house I would never have been able to savour the fleeting warm caress of the sunshine, made all the more delicious by the bone chilling temperature of the day.

It reminded me of skiing holidays when you are just about to throw your poles down in disgust as the cold in your feet has gradually turned to an insistent burning pain, but then you are gripped by the magnificent beauty of the mountains, stark white against the ice blue sky and suddenly you are glad you aren't dug down deep beneath a warm duvet.

That said on skiing holidays there are usually 1,001 reasons other than the cold why I want to down poles and retreat to a warm cafe for a vin chaude. But that is because I have learned through bitter experience that vertigo and a generally nervous disposition around slippery surfaces means that I am not a natural when it comes to winter sports.

While I admire my dedication for sticking with programme even in sub-zero temperatures, I do rather long for warmer days, when I don't have to dress up like an eskimo to go out for a run, and when it doesn't take me most of the time I am out just to warm up. Brrr.

Cool running

Moving swiftly on from night runs to winter runs. Although this week's training has been a bit upset by the seasonal interferences of a bout of ill health and general festive family commitments I did make it out for a good session on Saturday morning. Normally I love a morning run, the earlier the better as the deserted streets are far easier to navigate than dodging pedestrian and vehicular traffic, but this morning it was freezing.

Luckily while I was away in New York I invested in a winter running jacket. I opted for the Brooks Utopia Thermal Hoodie, if I am honest mainly because I liked the colour, but also because I was hoping it would deliver warmth without the sweat factor. Because I am a relatively novice runner I have made several kit errors, including a horribly hot running fleece which heats up like a sauna the moment you break out of a walk.

The problem is that on a super cold morning the first 10 minutes of a run are so freezing that all you want to do is wrap up as if you were venturing into the Arctic, but as soon as your body begins to heat up you begin to swelter unless your clothes are smart enough to regulate your temperature as you get warmer. Thankfully my new hoodie did the job admirably. I was a bit cold at first, but 15 minutes in I was toasty warm, but not drenched in sweat. Clearly this purchase was not one of my rookie mistakes.

The same cannot be said for my running gloves which, while they are swanky with reflective paint to ensure that my hands are highly visible at night time, are totally useless at keeping my hands warm. I think I may have to revert to my skiing gloves if the cold snap continues as the skin on my hands is beginning to resemble sandpaper it has been so abused by the frozen temperatures.

But despite being preoccupied by kit thanks to the chilly conditions, once I had got over the shock of leaving my warm bed for the frozen streets I was able to really enjoy the run. Perhaps it was because I had had a few days off and felt pretty strong, but it was one of those runs where you feel as if you could go on forever, rather than wheezing your way around longing to be back home again.

I do love watching my breath stream out in front of me like steam from an engine, I love the crunch of frosty grass under my trainers and the stark beauty of the black branches rising above my head when I run off road. I love the wintery urban landscape of chimneys belching out steam and smoke into the city air. I love glimpsing into people's warm living rooms, seeing the twinkle of Christmas tree lights and the strings of cards hanging from their mantlepieces.

I think perhaps running has unleashed a slightly voyeuristic tendency in me as I do adore distracting myself by nosing around my surroundings. One of my favourite runs takes me past rows and rows of millionaire mansions and I always play the 'Which one would I buy?' game to keep me amused as I run past.

At this time of year there is no contest as my favourite is the one lit up like a Christmas tree - well actually like several dozen Christmas trees which are laid out in full white fairy light regalia on the front lawn. It has cascades of ice white lights dripping down its facade, colour changing lights picking out the white colonnaded front, a gate house glimmering with thousands of diamond bright points of light. It's not tasteful, but it sure does look pretty as you dash past.

It's treats like this that keep getting me out of bed on a cold morning. Well that and the fact that I hope that by continuing to run all through Christmas I can avoid piling on too many pounds due to the excess of mince pies, turkey and chocolate coins that lays ahead of me. I think the American idea of a Turkey Trot (as experienced by my friend and fellow blogger Nappy Valley Girl) is a jolly good one, I just wish there was one in my local area so I could jog off damage inflicted by the Christmas feast.

Night running

It's that time of year when donning your trainers suddenly seems not quite as attractive. Going out for a run on a crisp, sunny autumn morning is a delight, getting wet and cold on a pitch dark December afternoon isn't quite as magical. But given that this is the time of year when we all need to keep moving to keep those Christmas calories at bay I have come up with some reasons why winter running is worth the effort.

You can feel like a pro. No matter whether you are seasoned marathon runner or an occasional jogger if you make the effort to put on your high viz vest, fleece and extra cosy tights for a run on a freezing cold and wet afternoon no one can accuse you of not taking your running seriously.

You don't sweat as much. I don't know about you, but I am not a very ladylike runner. I don't glow, I drip. At the end of a run I am like a dog that has been swimming, if I shake out my hair it showers all around with sweat - nice. But on a winter's evening the cold weather means that I come back much drier than in the summer.

The pretty lights. I am a sucker for all things sparkly and last night as I ran down the local high street in the rain I was uplifted by the Christmas lights twinkling overhead. Even the festive lights aren't lit I love to see the city lit up around me, when I am running at the top of a hill the view of lit office windows and the dazzle of brake lights is like an urban kaleidoscope.

A spot of retail therapy. As Christmas approaches and I rack my brains for ideas as to what to buy everyone, running past all the brightly lit shop windows can help but inspire me. The only slight problem is that because I have to stick to populated routes for safety I do find the maneuver of craning my neck to take in that lovely pair of shoes whilst running along a little dangerous as it has led to the odd near miss with a passing pedestrian.

So next time I look out of the darkened window and wonder why I bother, this post will be my answer.