Everyone has their own particular brand of insanity, a special type of insanity that they secretly treasure and are proud of being insane about. Despite our protests about disliking this particular character quirk or habit or possession, we are proud of having it, and look for ways to denigrate it as a subtle way to proclaim that yes, I really do like having this particular thing or trait or routine. But we'd never openly admit that we like it deep down inside.
Mine is running. And so now I'm simply going to brag. I went running this morning. It was dark (all of the streetlights and car headlights were on). I was pushing two children (who are starting to add up weight-wise). We ran over snow and ice. And it was nine degrees outside.