Snowed in

Crikey, only a day ago I walked along the clear roads of central Oxford with only the occasional hint of ice, scoffing at nature's attempt to thwart my training. Fast forward 20 hours and the view from my window tells no lie. All I see is white, the snow besieging my surroundings and relentlessly growing by the hour. Ten inches thick apparently, and yet there's more to come. A small trip down the road to Tesco is daunting enough, let alone a run.

I can't recall this much snow in the UK since I was a child, way back in the early '90s. Back then, it provided the perfect backdrop for snowball fights and snowman building. Now, it's a major drag. Maybe it's a sign that I'm getting old, or just more boring. Although, part of me would love nothing more than to get out there anyway and see what happens. What better way to re-enact the legendary training scenes from Rocky IV? Indeed, in the marathon I have my very own Ivan Drago, an incredibly powerful and quiet opponent that will show no mercy. Maybe I should just embrace the extreme conditions and run for the hell of it. That's what real men do, right?

Sounds awesome, except I'm under strict orders from mum not to run until the snow clears. Ah, well...the exercise bike will do for now.