could it be seasonal affective disorder?

Snuggling fireside. Holiday beer, candy, feasts and cookies. One more hour of sleep.

The wonderful things winter will bring.

We're nearing the end of autumn in Syracuse, trading in our hoodies for Northface jackets and shoes for waterproof boots (preferably not Uggs), and looking forward to the not-far-off season of sweets and coziness.

But with the season change, warmer clothes are not the only things we dust off from storage. The bad eating habits and laziness from winters past manage to creep back into routine.

For the past few weeks I've grown quite fond of my evening runs right before sunset. The air is chilly and refreshing, the landscape colorful and pleasing. The onset of winter promises a much less enjoyable exercise experience: bare trees, brutally cold temperatures, less daylight.

Not exactly an environment that encourages aerobic activity. Layering and sweatshirts let you indulge a little more, without the pressure to look good in a bikini.

My ability to leave my warm apartment, let alone bed, for a run in the bitter cold will prove to be a daily struggle. To allow myself to be thrown outside to run the cold, dark streets of Syracuse will take a lot of convincing; I don't know if I'll be able to come up with a reason other than I should. But I should do a lot of things; it doesn't mean I'm motivated enough to endure discomfort for them.

So why must the holiday centered on candy (Halloween), the holiday encouraging stuffing your face until you feel sick (Thanksgiving), and the holiday centered around chocolate Advent calendars, hot chocolate and festive cookies (Christmas) all fall during the season where it's so hard to work out?

Humans are animals too, right? It's only part of nature that we'd pack on a few pounds to stay a little warmer during the colder months.

I really want to make it a point to try and maintain a healthy, active lifestyle through out the winter. Fruit will be harder to come by and the gym may be the only option, but I should be able to adapt.

So, it's back to the treadmill I go. If you don't see me at Archbold, do me a favor and call me.

Hopefully I'll be able to answer my cell once I awake from my deep slumber or put down the German Gingerbread cookies.