I grew up in Minneapolis, and the brutally fierce winters hold their perils for small children.
I was 6 years old and my coolest uncle decided to take my little little gang out to see the Christmas lights. Gloves would have been nice, but they were forgotten at home. So after stopping to tie my shoe I ran up to catch the group, and mid-run I Charlie-Brown slipped (first back then forward) and smacked my front teeth right out of my mouth.
And that was the day I learned to run with my hands OUTSIDE of my pockets.