Vary My Days

I have a friend who set her life up in such a way that she doesn't have to experience winter. During the Northern hemisphere's winter months, she finds something to do closer to the equator, and returns for summer in New York City. Having a blog titled Move Me to the Sun might suggest that I also aspire to live in permanent summer, but I don't.

I'm coming to the end of a 4-month stay in Embu, Kenya, which has a latitude of about 0.54 degrees South. This latitude places Embu firmly in the tropics, which experiences wet and dry seasons instead of the four distinct seasons that temperate regions cycle through annually. The latitude also controls sunrise/sunset times and daylight hours, 12 unchanging hours throughout the year.

All of this means that I haven't experienced cold weather, or changing daylight hours, or really anything that my body perceives as contrast since April of 2025, almost a year. And it's driving me a bit crazy.

I traveled here from Brooklyn in mid-October, just after the first couple of days of genuinely needing a sweater to be comfortable outside. I was happy to avoid the descent into winter at first. Tropical fruits are always available. It’s up to me, and not the forecast, whether I went for a swim. I didn't have to think too hard about what to wear. Between the temperature stability and local expectations of modesty, the answer was always pants and a T-shirt.

After a while though, I felt a pang of jealousy watching my friends in the tristate area post their runs on Strava with snowflake emojis. I missed the internal calculus of layering to run in the cold based on the temperature and the length of the run. Running pants, tight long sleeve plus baggy fleece? Or loose baselayer plus a sweatshirt? Beanie or the earwarmer? Neck gaiter? Running gloves? Or should I just ball my hands up in the sleeves of my fleece?

I grew up at 40.7 degrees North latitude (New Jersey) and spent several years living at 43-44 degrees North latitude (New Hampshire and Vermont), about halfway between the Equator and the North pole. I spent my whole life experiencing distinct seasons: hot, sticky summers; dry, crisp autumns; cold, snowy winters; slow warm ups in spring.

I learned how to run in all of those seasons. I learned to layer and stay comfortable down to 9 degrees F/-12 degrees C. l slipped YakTrax over my sneakers during Vermont springs where there's a 50/50 chance on any given day that the road is ice or mud. During the summer, I ran as early as possible in the summer to avoid the intense sun and heat of midday. I learned to carry a water bottle with some sugar and salt mixed in, even if I thought I didn't need it. I learned to wait patiently for early-fall, the perfect running season.

I don't recognize myself here. In the US, my warm weather running attire can generally be described as anything "short and/or tight." I can't even fully enjoy Kenya's tropical weather because, to avoid drawing even more attention to myself, I've been wearing athletic pants, leggings, long tank tops, and baggy T-shirts. If I have to wear long pants or leggings while running, I'd rather it be for warmth than modesty.

In the cold, you can feel your body warm up in a way that you can't in the heat. The cold makes you very aware of the fact that you're a living, breathing animal with a metabolism. You're supposed to wear less than you think you'll need to account for the warming that happens as you exert your body. So, the start of every run in the cold is a kind of trust fall. My instinct is to bundle up but I have to resist that urge and trust that my body will do what it's designed to do. Running in the heat doesn't allow for this kind of process.

I once interviewed for a job on the West Coast. I flew there from Boston in the month of February. Vermont was snowy and cold. The sugaring season was yet to begin and the landscape hadn't shaken off that deep chill yet. Berkeley was lush and balmy by comparison. I saw green things, worked up a sweat walking around in a fleece. I was told that that was the coldest the Bay Area got, really. I couldn't see myself living there. Green in February? A range of only about 40 degrees year round? No need for a winter coat?? How would I know where I was? Or when I was?

I can understand why my friend or anyone else would want to avoid winter. The short days are demoralizing and the body feels like shutting down in the cold. But what a thrill to be on the same page with the world in such a visceral way! To sense with minimal mediation that your little piece of the Earth is greeting or shying away from the Sun. I think it's a treat. A blessing, even. Temperate seasons say: "We're all on the same page, like it or not. Get with the program." I like this program. Regardless of what's happening, buds swell and burst into leaves in the spring. Deciduous trees put on a color show in the fall. Everything seems to go still in the winter. Summer is a party.

Make me alive
Make me confused
Mock me with praise
Let me be used
Vary my days
- "Being Alive" from Company (1970)

After years of living in the northeast US, I think I've adapted into a being that requires seasons to make sense of time and place. For better or worse, I require atmospheric inflection points, moments when I can tell that the air smells different and something else is coming. Maple sugaring at the end of a frigid winter. Perfect running weather at the end of a sweltering summer. Squash harvest after months of weeding. Soup, blankets, and Vince Guaraldi jazz after an autumn of frolicking in fallen leaves.

One day you wake up and you don’t need the coat, just the sweatshirt. You realize that you can probably get away with wearing shorts if you wait to run in the afternoon and the sky stays clear. One day you wake up and just the T-shirt is enough, and actually, maybe we should take a dip in the pond today? It’ll be cold, but invigorating. Yes, let’s do that.