... you guys, it's fucking cold.
And yet, it's not as bad as it was several weeks ago, when the "feels like" temperature said -31 degrees. (And for some insane reason, we still went outside anyway and walked to the Vikings game and then walked to a bar afterwards for burgers and then walked to another bar, where there was a mechanical bull and two guys got in a fight and accidentally hit a girl and it was really upsetting and I had the worst drink I've ever had in my entire life. Do not ever -- ever -- let the pint-sized, 22-year-old server talk you into a Jeremiah Weed.)
Anyway, you learn to cope. I own a lot of puffy coats and hats and gloves and scarves and those face mask things that make you look like a ninja. And I love snow boots. Actually, "love" is an understatement; I'm completely obsessed with them. I honestly feel like I've been waiting my entire life for an excuse to only wear snow boots, especially this pair with the fur:
And you adjust your perspective because -17 is really "not that bad" when you know things could be much, much worse. And you convince yourself the sensation of having all of your nose hairs freeze at once is actually "refreshing." And you tell yourself that doing all of your runs on the treadmill builds "character" and "mental fortitude."