My wife and I do a lot of walking. Pretty much every day we take our two dogs on a hike.
In the Wisconsin northern environs, when it hits the winter months, it changes where you can go. Some of the paths we like during warmer months are snow-packed and not easily accessible.
Other times, the paths may get icy or the snow so deep that we stick to the side of seldom-driven road. Regardless, winter forces us to adapt.
When we moved back north four-and-a-half years ago, this wasn’t something you considered. You settle in, enjoy the seasons, find places where you enjoy walking, and everything is copacetic. Then the winter weather kicks in and you realize you won’t be walking on certain paths for several months.
This past winter was a kicker, and drove this point home. We moved our daily trips with the dogs to different venues to give them variety and let them run. A brutal cold snap made the daily jaunt even more difficult.
Frozen lumpy snow is hard to traverse. It’s that damn simple. Twenty-five years ago, I’m not so sure I would have said that. I might have recognized that it took more effort, but doubt I would have thought about it much beyond that.
Now though, the change in the landscape from the snow is much more of a struggle. First, you try to avoid slipping on icy patches. I’d forgotten the dangers of hidden ice. Quite frankly, falling down from icy strips is probably one of the most problematic challenges you face in the winter.
Even if you don’t fall down, once you’ve slipped on a sidewalk or your driveway and righted yourself, but strained a shoulder, back muscle, hip or knee, you get tentative. Every place you take a step, you wonder if there’s ice under that thin veneer of snow.
Walking through an inch or two of snow is no big deal. But, if it gets to three or four inches or more, a one-mile walk seems more like two miles. There’s an added huffing and puffing burden as your body works to move through deeper accumulations.
Again, this is something you really don’t think about until you do it, and realize you’re 20 years older than the last time you walked in your boots for three miles through snow on hilly terrain. It’s a workout.
Recently we talked about this, as the first days of warmth melted snow, then refroze it, making it lumpy and icy. A few days later it melted some more. Then, whoa, pavement started to emerge on some of the local biking/jogging paths, and suddenly life seemed easier.
You felt the smoothness of the pavement. You took steps with authority. You felt confident. I remarked repeatedly to my wife on how much nicer it was to the point where I’m sure she stopped listening to me.
It’s not something you typically think about. But when it warms up and you experience the change to smoother, easier landscape to traipse, it improves your mood and motivates you to pick up the pace.
Spring just hit us. Not sure it is really spring. False hope hits too often in Wisconsin after three of our nice days. We’ll get more snow, but it won’t stick around. The paths will re-emerge quickly. We’ll walk with confidence and increase our pace and mileage. Small steps of progress, one of my mottos this year.
In the Wisconsin northern environs, when it hits the winter months, it changes where you can go. Some of the paths we like during warmer months are snow-packed and not easily accessible.
Other times, the paths may get icy or the snow so deep that we stick to the side of seldom-driven road. Regardless, winter forces us to adapt.
When we moved back north four-and-a-half years ago, this wasn’t something you considered. You settle in, enjoy the seasons, find places where you enjoy walking, and everything is copacetic. Then the winter weather kicks in and you realize you won’t be walking on certain paths for several months.
This past winter was a kicker, and drove this point home. We moved our daily trips with the dogs to different venues to give them variety and let them run. A brutal cold snap made the daily jaunt even more difficult.
Frozen lumpy snow is hard to traverse. It’s that damn simple. Twenty-five years ago, I’m not so sure I would have said that. I might have recognized that it took more effort, but doubt I would have thought about it much beyond that.
Now though, the change in the landscape from the snow is much more of a struggle. First, you try to avoid slipping on icy patches. I’d forgotten the dangers of hidden ice. Quite frankly, falling down from icy strips is probably one of the most problematic challenges you face in the winter.
Even if you don’t fall down, once you’ve slipped on a sidewalk or your driveway and righted yourself, but strained a shoulder, back muscle, hip or knee, you get tentative. Every place you take a step, you wonder if there’s ice under that thin veneer of snow.
Walking through an inch or two of snow is no big deal. But, if it gets to three or four inches or more, a one-mile walk seems more like two miles. There’s an added huffing and puffing burden as your body works to move through deeper accumulations.
Again, this is something you really don’t think about until you do it, and realize you’re 20 years older than the last time you walked in your boots for three miles through snow on hilly terrain. It’s a workout.
Recently we talked about this, as the first days of warmth melted snow, then refroze it, making it lumpy and icy. A few days later it melted some more. Then, whoa, pavement started to emerge on some of the local biking/jogging paths, and suddenly life seemed easier.
You felt the smoothness of the pavement. You took steps with authority. You felt confident. I remarked repeatedly to my wife on how much nicer it was to the point where I’m sure she stopped listening to me.
It’s not something you typically think about. But when it warms up and you experience the change to smoother, easier landscape to traipse, it improves your mood and motivates you to pick up the pace.
Spring just hit us. Not sure it is really spring. False hope hits too often in Wisconsin after three of our nice days. We’ll get more snow, but it won’t stick around. The paths will re-emerge quickly. We’ll walk with confidence and increase our pace and mileage. Small steps of progress, one of my mottos this year.