What’s happened here? Sure, spring brings a blast of white stuff lots of years here in the upper midwest, but truly, this stinks.
Eugene, of chewing Sketchers and stair corner fame, and I were ready. New Sketchers’ sneakers, ready. Pants, sports bra, leash and collar, all ready. And walking in snow, no big deal for us, I mean really? This winter has been the snowiest winter on record, which I would normally be THRILLED about. But, instead, today, I just put on my slippers, got my water, cooked up my oatmeal, all while barely glancing at my walking clothes. Time to write the blog.
Seriously, though, the snow notwithstanding, getting out on my walks, even with an eager partner, and one so cute, has been a struggle this year. I used to go plowing through the snow with our dog, Brinkley for all the winters he was alive. We loved trying to figure out where the trails were along the river that flows through our town and walking knee-deep in snow, in the middle of streets, forging our way where no human or canine dare go that early in the morning, on that cold and snowy of a day.
Now, I just put on my slippers and write the blog. But at least I’m writing.
I need a goal. When my twinsie and I trained for our half marathon in Eugene, Oregon (Eugene’s moniker’s sake) we walked through tons of snow and sleet, in the streets because people don’t shovel their sidewalks (REALLY????), our last run/walk before the marathon, it sleeted the whole 14.75 miles, and my pants were so wet, that they were stretched out, pulled up and tucked under my sports bra, and still dragging on the icy ground every last step as Brinkley and I sprinted to the “finish line”.
Snow, sleet, wanting to sleep, darkness, plantar fasciitis, below zero temps even, nothing stopped Brinkley and me from our walks.
Training for our hike down the Grand Canyon, with 25 pounds (cast iron pan anyone?) strapped to my back, walking up hill backwards (FYI, prepares the fronts of your legs for all of us “flat landers” and really works well, ask hubby, who refused to do it because he didn’t want to look stupid, how it felt going 7 miles down into the Canyon? Yah, next time he’ll train the right way.) Hiking with Brinkley everyday, with frequent adjustment visits with my chiropractor, got me ready for that amazing three-day hike. I didn’t even have a single sore muscle, but getting out of the Canyon, those last three grueling miles with 35 pounds on our backs, that was tough and the subject of another blog — see what you have to look forward to?
I need a goal now. I spoke of my depression in an earlier blog, and I feel there is nothing that stops me quicker from getting out and walking than depression, moreover, nothing helps depression like walking on a cold dark morning, up and down the prairie path that snakes over a ravine, between an open meadow, and a cemetery where cold stones mark the place of cold bones, leading us straight to the frozen river.
Depression medicine has helped a lot, but thankfully medicine alone is not the treatment for the sadness that presses against us, working through it is key. Why, I wouldn’t choose the best treatment in the whole world for depression that costs nothing (unless Eugene chews my sneakers) and starts at the front door? I’m still working that out. The incredible high that comes from striding as fast as I can up the steepest hills from the ravine, puffs of steam marking my breathlessness, there’s nothing like it, my friends. It clears the mind and consoles the heart, and makes everything so focused, it’s better than an hour with a counselor with health benefits galore.
Sad sigh. I keep waiting for spring, but weather really doesn’t have anything to do with it as you can easily see. So, that’s my new goal, just doing it. I think I’ll start tomorrow, one foot in front of the other, walking through this sadness to incredible healing.
You can hold me to it.