Every year I have a contest.  It's only with myself though.  I see how late in the fall I can wait before I turn the furnace on.  There is a considerable measure of this contest that is completely and totally out of my control - how early it gets cold. The only part I do control is how fast I will cave to the cold by firing up my furnace.  I like some space between AC, open windows, and then furnace season. It's part of my tough and cheap personality.
This year, the earliest year of a furnace turn on I can remember in my adult life, I turned the furnace on Friday, September 12th.  It was 62 degrees in the house and I was miserable.  This was not a winning year in my contest!
I'm just not one that likes to get cold, unlike my brother-in-law Kent who frolics with pure unadulterated joy at snow and cold.  If it involves outdoors in winter, he is there doing it without a complaint.  It's a sickness I believe he has, but I choose to love him in spite of his one big snow loving downfall.
Cold bothers me.  It affects my hands, my ears, my breathing while running, and limits the amount of time I REALLY want to spend outside.  Which makes me angry ultimately because the outdoors is usually always where I would rather be. Once thoroughly chilled from a run, a walk, a drive in a cold car, the span of space from my car to a store, or sitting in a too cool restaurant, I am cold to my core.  Once cold in my core, I cannot get warmed back up.  It's a miserable feeling.
Those of you who know me well, also know that I am not a fan of heavy clothes or tons of layers.  My philosophy is; less is better in just about every area, clothes included.  I am also definitely not wired like my sister Jeanne at all.  She wears 4 shirts, a sweater,  scarf, boots, coat, hat and gloves from October 1st through May 30th.  She even transports her slippers to social events at other peoples' houses so her feet are warm.  I get hot, bothered, constrained, panicked and claustrophobic just looking at all her layers!  I gotta be me and free!!
That's exactly why I hate winter so much I think.  There is a measure of bound-ness that comes with.  Driving is restricted, it requires more time to get anywhere, one needs to wear more clothes, it's light less hours a day, and the sky and snow feel closed in on me.  I go out in it anyway - to breath fresh air, to feel nature in its extreme state, to feel a bit wild, and to have the world all to myself as others hibernate inside. 
I pay for it with a cold to the core chill that hangs on for hours.  It's seriously miserable.  That damn extreme core chilling that will face me later is the detrimental de-motivation I have to push through to make myself want to go outside in winter.
It's not a matter of more clothes [yes I can hear you in the peanut gallery chastising me to bundle up more].   I will refer you to earlier paragraphs on why that is not an option either.  Having tried more layers a time or two, I can say it just doesn't abate the core chill either.  Quite frankly I think I am NOT programmed for cold.   I though am programmed for shorts, flip flops, a long sleeved shirt if need be and 60-75 degrees.
I had to force myself out to run at 6:15 a.m. this morning with temps at 39 degrees.  I had quite a lot of self talk as I climbed the stairs to change my clothes after sipping a bit of coffee before running....
[I walked in the bedroom looking for the warmer running clothes that were draped over the hamper.... I thought about how cold I would be later, about how tired I was, about whether I wanted to risk the fact that I would have enough energy to run AFTER work instead of before.  I momentarily laid back on the bed contemplating who was going to win this battle to go out in the cold.  If I didn't go do it I would be angry at myself around 9 a.m. while sitting at my desk for not following through.  If I didn't go out and run in the cold I was NOT helping myself get reacquainted and toughened up to the cold.  You will feel better knowing you just did it in spite of how you FELT!]
That's all it took.  I threw on my clothes and shoes.  As quick as I could, as though the air was a jump into an unheated pool, I opened the door and ran down the street.  I just wanted to get it over with.  Mind over cold.  I was practicing for the long months of winter that were being slowly ushered in.  I was a frog in boiling water but with cold .... hoping that if I just made myself go out in it daily it would bother me less and less.  I seem to go through this cold metamorphosis yearly.  Had I forgotten that?
Everything really is temporary.  Including cold, which I hate.  My dad told me recently, in response to my complaining about the cold, that complaining doesn't do any good.  I told him it gets it out of me!

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