We're freakin' nuts...

The alarm clock rang at 6:45am. The grind-n-brew did it's thing at 6:50am. I could hear old man Winter's frosty breath rattle against the bedroom windows. The thermometer registered at 8 lonely degrees. On any other morning it would have been torture to consider crawling out from under the pile of flannel sheets and quilts. I slithered out from my cozy nest, brushed my bucks, slapped on a little lip gloss and began the layering process. Five, count em, five layers of dry fit on the top and three layers of running tights on the bottom. One pair of cotton socks covered with some wools ones and a fleece lined stocking cap to boot (this is one way to work up a sweat). Cue the snow. I know, if we weren't from hearty Midwestern stock we woulda turned right around and called it quits. But, it's tradition, and debatably child torture, all in the name of a great T-shirt. Our second annual Reindeer run was 5 kilometers (3.1 miles) of undoubtedly, "fresh," air and fabulous company. I mean listen, if St. Nick can make his way through the white and wintery snow, so can Hank's all terrain stroller! In theory it looks like a day started in the right direction with a healthy does of outdoor exercise... Until we capped of our adventure with a greasy Chammps burger and two rounds of bloodies (don't forget the side cars). Well, afterall we certainly thought we deserved it. AND, just because my hubby LOVES it when I, "roll," my own home videos...