I am a weenie.

WX at 0600: 19 (-7), DP 17 (-8). BP 30.53 (1033), Calm, RH 98%

Note the temp. No wind chill reading (not that it would matter much in this temperature).

As I sti here in skivvy shorts and a t-shirt, I rationalize all sorts of reasons why I don't want to go outside.

Note Bob the Heat Tab(tm), as my infantryman peers often call the sun, has not emerged above horizon yet this morning. Yet another reason to boot.

So I won't. Not today. A few years ago at Fort Leavenworth, I decided to go for a run. There was snow on the ground and it was about the same conditions; less than 20 F. By the fourth mile in I had frosted eyebrows and eyelashes. It was about as Kafkaesque a run as I could remember because it was so damn cold. During the middle of the morning, at that.

If I decide to come out for the jump tomorrow (as I probably will) it probably means I'll be breaking out an assload of snivel gear because I'd much rather look like the Michelin Man and be warm than look cool and be unbearably cold.

The sometimes-practiced dictate of "if you look cool, everything will be fine" is not to be used in these conditions.

I am a weenie. But a judicious weenie.