Who turned on the cold?

I was really enjoying winter, the 70 degree days mixed in with a few high 50 and low 60 degree days. What was not to love. A few weeks ago, it was as if someone flipped a switch--now I have had to redefine a good day as anything above 30.

I was on a business trip to Miami recently (yes, I know, a true hardship--but someone has to do it). When I left my house at 5 am it was 24 degrees, when I landed in Miami--at 10:30 am--it was 80. The biggest dilemma: what to do with all of the extra layers I needed when I left my house. They seemed awkward and made me stick out like a sore thumb amongst the natives. While there, I enjoyed an open ocean swim (just me and the man-o-wars) and a two hour oceanside run in shorts and a t-shirt.

Alas, I did have to return to the Mid-Atlantic, which might as well be the mid-Anatartic. Born and raised in the north country, a few clicks from the Canadian border, I should not by birthright complain about the cold. This must disappoint my people. I have realized as I get older that I much prefer dealing with extreme heat then the cold. Yesterday, for example, I rode my bike for an hour and ran for 45 minutes. The wind was howling all night and nothing changed when I was speedlacing my running shoes in the morning. I was reluctant to go outside, much like the reluctancy I experience knowing I'm about to jump into a cold lake. Fingers and toes frozen, I survived but the wind's brutality was miserable and I remained chilled all day.

I don't know who turned on the cold but if I catch them................