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Back in my college days, when I had more adrenaline than sense, I decided on one boring day that I would attempt running in snow barefoot. The temperature was about zero degrees Celsius, there was little wind and the sun was in the sky. In the apartment complex in which we lived there was a courtyard that was boxed by the apartments, and there was a toppled snowman sitting in the middle about 25 yards out that we had built some days before.

My plan was to run out to the snowman, stand on top of the body, then run back. I wore tropical shorts and a flannel shirt to...ahhh...keep me warm and stylish.

Note: don't do this, it could be fatal.

Well, I ran out and the first thing that I noticed was that the snow felt like sand to the touch, and instead of being cold, which I would have expected, it actually burned. I made it out to the snowman without incident, but on the way back I started to feel very sluggish. By the time I made it to the warmth of the apartment my heart was racing so fast (trying to compensate for my stupidity) that I was sure that it was going to exit my chest.

It took over 30 minutes to recover, and at the time I was pretty fit.

So whatever you do, think it out first. You're not an elf, you're going to feel cold and you will sink.

And elves did not wear bunny slippers.

Note that the attached image shows when I at least had sense enough to wear boots.