The torpid two

By this time of year, I have usually settled into my winter hibernation den—a.k.a. the gym—for some quality time on the treadmill and the elliptical machine.

But since my gym membership has expired and I plan to put off purchasing a new one for as long as possible, I have been spending more time exercising in sub-freezing temperatures than usual.

Here’s the thing: don’t tell Gov. Brian Schweitzer or his bolo tie, but I’m not really a true Montanan. I mean, I live here, and I love it, but when the mercury drops, I turn into a real pansy.

My treadmill dependence, it seems, has finally caught up with me. Now that I’ve found myself without access to one, I have been forced to confront my cold-weather wussiness.

I have been running outside in conditions I would never have dreamed of stepping out in as my former self. As a result, my body is not adapted to move normally in such an environment. My usual quick, efficient stride has devolved into a stiff, lethargic lope.

My “winter pace,” however, has allowed me the opportunity to take in my surroundings with more detail than ever before.

During the snowy months of the Montana winter (October through June), wildlife sightings are usually few and far between. So, on a particularly chilly day last week, I was surprised to see a squirrel scampering across the road.

Actually, scampering isn’t really the word. It was more like the squirrel version of a slow-motion jog. Like, if there had been a bunch of squirrels, you could have filmed a squirrel version of the beach scene in Chariots of Fire. (Do I hear YouTube sensation?)

My speed-challenged, bushy-tailed friend struck a chord with me. I wondered why he, too, looked like he was caught in an invisible vat of molasses.

So of course, when I finally returned home, I went straight to the Google to satisfy my curiosity.

Turns out, squirrels—along with many other mammals—drift in and out of a state of reduced metabolic activity when the temperature drops. According to Wikipedia—which means there’s about a 50 percent chance of accuracy—it’s called “torpor.”

When an animal enters a torpid state, its heart rate can drop as low as four to eight beats per minute—per MINUTE. That’s like one heartbeat every 15 seconds!

Every now and then, when temperatures allow, the animal can come out of torpor and resume normal activity. But it’s not like they just 1-2-3-snap! out of it. So my little nut-hunting rodent pal had probably just woken up from the deepest sleep ever. Who could blame him for being a little groggy?

And that, my friends, sounds like a pretty good idea right about now. I think I’ll take a cue from nature, go brush my teeth and settle in for some nice, quality torpor.

Spring running survival guide

It’s been months since you last saw the pavement on your street, so when you begin to notice patches of asphalt peeking through the melting layers of muddy slush, you can’t wait to reacquaint yourself with the pleasures of running on solid ground. With no more black-ice booby traps to watch out for, you are anxious to hit the road and run as fast and far as you please, throwing caution to the 35-mile-an-hour wind.

But while threats of frostbite and hypothermia may have dwindled with the coming of spring, the season of rebirth brings with it a host of new dangers. Here is a breakdown of the top spring running hazards with suggestions on how to handle them:

1.) Ill-behaved hillbilly dogs – It’s a sunny spring day, so you decide to head to your favorite park for a nice afternoon jog. When you arrive, you find that (literally) everyone and their dog had the exact same idea. Seriously, it’s like people have come out of the hills, venturing into city limits for the first time in months to buy horse feed and kerosene. If this is the case, it’s unlikely that they’ve read the paper in the last 15 years, meaning they are completely unaware of the local leash law. You round the bend and come up fast behind a pair of unrestrained hounds, spooking them and triggering their defense instinct. What do you do? Kick them? Mace them? No, the animal-lover in you would never hurt someone’s pet, but you’re about three seconds away from a dozen stitches and a rabies shot. They’re closing in fast…if only you had a way to redirect their attention. This type of situation is the precise reason why savvy spring runners have a few sticks of Pup-Peroni on them at all times. Reach for the treats, chuck them into the air, and make a break for it. Trust me, no dog—or even some humans—can resist these delicious nuggets of hardened meat product.

2.) Obese woodland creatures – After coming out of hibernation, the neighborhood squirrels made a beeline for your garbage can, where they ate themselves silly on pizza crusts and expired cottage cheese. Now they’re fat and on the verge of developing type 2 diabetes. They can handle only short bursts of physical activity, so after darting onto the sidewalk to claim a stray acorn, they become so exhausted that they cannot summon the energy to move even though you are about to trample over them. Luckily, you’ve spent the winter practicing speed and agility drills in preparation for this exact moment. Just as the chubby rodent comes into your field of view, you launch into a lateral skate jump, barely averting a messy road kill disaster.

3.) Discarded objects – As temperatures spike to near-tropical levels (we’re talking high 40s and low 50s) the layers of snow and ice will begin to recede, revealing an entire winter’s worth of lost and forgotten items. From unwanted Happy Meal toys (because hey, that Buzz Lightyear action figure looked way cooler in the commercial) to freeze-dried dog turds, the ground is littered with abandoned articles just waiting to ruin your day. This is not the season to zone out and attempt to Zen your way through a run—that’s an open invitation for poopy shoes and a sprained ankle. Keep all five senses on high alert, and you’ll avoid (literally) finding yourself in deep doo-doo.

4.) Potholes – It’s been a long, hard winter (curse you Dick Cheney and your weather machine!) and all that cold air and moisture has wreaked havoc on paved roads. Your city looks like a third-world country, dotted with craters so big they could easily be mistaken for UFO crash sites. The numerous pavement pockmarks are particularly unkind to low-riding vehicles—like the timelessly sexy PT Cruiser—but they present an even more dangerous situation to spring road runners like you and me. Losing your balance on a patch of uneven pavement could lead to any number of ailments, from a twisted ankle to lockjaw. So be aware of your surroundings, and stick to the sidewalk whenever possible.