People begin to act really strange when it gets cold in Florida. We are so used to temperate weather that any night below 40 throws us for a loop.
We scramble for coats, blankets, sweaters, whatever to keep us warm. We lament the cold, cold, cold, cold temperatures. The thing is, we all moved here from up north. At least most of us did. Where temps were in the single digits in the winter. Where we went out and shoveled snow in single digit temperatures. Where winter lasted months, not days.
I remember running when it was 20 below zero. I think I did it more to prove that I could. Tights and nylon running pants. T-shirt, turtle neck, and nylon running top. Hat, two pairs of gloves, and a scarf over my face. Plastic two pairs of sock. Four or five miles in Des Moines, IA. Actually, it wasn’t so bad. Once the icicles formed on my mustache and I was under way, it was pretty cool to be out in pretty cool temperatures. Crunch snow, bitter air — I felt alive. A survivor. Not a victim of the weather, but someone who could overcome and survive the worst conditions.
So 30 degrees in FL? Piece of cake.