It is finally cold here. In the last few days, the temperature has dropped, the chill has set in, and it is finally cold.
It’s the sort of cold that makes me shiver and makes my teeth chatter. It’s the sort of cold that makes my fingers freeze as I type, and makes me contemplate searching for my gloves (but I probably won’t). It’s the sort of cold that gives me hope that maybe – just maybe – we will have a “proper” winter this year.
It is gloriously cold.
And as much as I want to curl up in bed – not necessarily to sleep, but to at least bury myself in blankets and feel wonderfully warm against the cold – I also want to venture outside and embrace the glorious coldness that has been bestowed upon us.
I went for a quick run on Friday evening (6.5km), and again yesterday afternoon (4km). Today I went for an 8km hike with a few friends, and I’m feeling suitably exhausted. Gloriously so. For me, there is something invigorating about the cold.
Last night I walked home through the park, and it brought a smile to my face to see my breath materialise in front of me in big puffs of vapour. I have memories of my younger self getting ever so slightly light-headed from hyperventilating out in the cold just so I could marvel at these puffs of vapour. (Yeah, ok, I still do this sometimes.)
I love being able to wear my favourite hoodie all day at home. This is the sort of weather that makes hot meals and beverages all the more satisfying (but I will still eat my cereal with cold milk every morning). And as much as I love cold showers in summer, I love that feeling of having a hot shower in cold weather.
This is my sort of winter.