Spring has arrived—or so it claims. Here in the Midwest, spring is less of a season and more of an elaborate prank. It starts with what I like to call “false spring,” a tantalizing glimpse of warmth and sunshine that lasts just long enough to trick you into packing away your winter coat. Then comes “fake spring,” followed by “pseudo-spring,” and finally, the inevitable return of winter—twice. Just when you think you’ve survived the last winter, another one sneaks in like an uninvited guest at a party. And let’s not forget the grand finale: construction season. But that’s a rant for another day.

The weather here is so indecisive it could run for office. One minute it’s 77 degrees and sunny, and two hours later it’s snowing sideways. It’s like living inside a weather app that can’t make up its mind. For runners, this is nothing short of a nightmare. Dressing for an outdoor run becomes an exercise in meteorological guesswork: hand warmers and a sock hat? Or shorts and a tank top? Either way, you’re probably wrong.

Races this time of year are no better. You start bundled up like an arctic explorer but occasionally get faked out by a rogue warm day that leaves you sweating buckets by mile five. By December or January, though, it’s time to flee south for races—because while Ohio may have bipolar weather, at least Florida has the decency to pick a season and stick with it (mostly).

Take my marathon experiences in Florida as proof that even “consistent” weather can be wildly unpredictable:

• January 2010: The Coldest Marathon Ever™. My hair literally froze during the race—it was 32 degrees at the start, which was fine because I’d trained in similar conditions. But by mile 20, my knee gave out, forcing me to walk half a mile. The cold was so brutal I had to start running again just to avoid freezing solid like some tragic runner-shaped ice sculpture. It took me two days to thaw out properly.
• January 2012: The Temperature That Never Was. This race felt like running inside a vacuum—there was no discernible temperature at all, just an eerie neutrality that left me wondering if I’d accidentally entered some kind of weatherless dimension.
• January 2014: Heat Advisories Galore. In my infinite wisdom, I wore all black and tights for this race—a decision that seemed fine until the temperature hit 90 degrees by hour five (yes, I’m slow). By then, it was hotter than blue blazes, and I spent the last few miles questioning every life choice that had led me to this moment.

So no, it’s not just Ohio—weather chaos can strike anywhere. My advice? Always have gloves handy. Being cold is infinitely worse than being too warm (though I say this as someone on blood thinners, so take my bias with a grain of salt). Overdressing beats underdressing every time—unless you’re running in 90-degree heat while wearing tights, but let’s not dwell on my poor judgment.

Spring may be unreliable, but running through its ups and downs teaches you resilience. After all, if we can survive spring weather every year without losing our minds entirely, we can survive anything!