Get Outside, Take a Walk

“How long have you been doing your January walk every day?” my daughter asked this morning as I looked at the thermometer.

I had to dig a little to figure out the answer to that one. My friend Jenni introduced me to the Winter Warrior challenge in 2018, when I was trying to run more. I liked the idea of getting outside, but I had the same concerns as I do now — weather warnings, schedule logistics, slippery ice.

But I decided to start because doing, imperfectly would be better than not doing it at all.

And it was better, so I kept doing it.

I started tracking and documenting five years ago. What started as an exercise goal turned into an intention in mindfulness and movement, noticing and nature, and connection and conversation.

Every year the intention is the same. Every year the experience is different.

Intention: Get outside and walk (or run, snowshoe, or x-country ski) at least a mile, every day.

This year I walked more by the ocean than any other year, I’ve done this. I drove to my home town several times to help my parents; breathing the salt air on my walks was a bonus.

This year I took 8 walks in one place — day and night, during and after snow, in boots and in snowshoe, different paths, different directions — and didn’t get bored.

This year I wanted to walk more with people, but my schedule felt very tenuous. Still I was able to walk with six people (and two dogs), not counting our full moon hike.

This year’s walks took me to four different cities / towns. I walked the roads and the bike path and through parks. I followed trails I’ve walked for decades now, traveled favorite paths along the ocean, and explored newly opened conservation land (again and again).

Winter Walk Words of the Day

marcescent — withering without falling from the plant, as in leaves on trees such as oak or beech

thermonasty — a plant’s movement in response to temperature (rhododendron leaves curling is an example)

Some walks involved snowshoes. Many involved microspikes. One or two involved handwarmers or headlamps. All involved fresh air and movement.

I came back from walks to warm cinnamon rolls, black bottom maple pie, and hot chocolate spiced with cinnamon and cayenne or orange zest and cardamom.

I came back rosy cheeked, clear headed, and invigorated.

I came back with hope.

Sometimes the thermometer lies. It was a warm 20° today. The sun was bright, the air still. I wasn’t sure I wanted to walk, though I knew I would do it.

I made plans with friends to make it more inviting. I got to show them new to them trails that I had walked again in the preceding days. It was bright and delightful and joyful. I remembered to breathe deep.

Last year my winter walks ended abruptly due to treacherously icy grounds (even with microspikes). This year, I don’t know when I’ll stop.

As my friend dropped me off today, they were glad they came and said how easy it is not to get out for a walk. To let cold or busy get in the way. It is so easy to stay in by the fire or be exhausted at the end of a work day or long drive, to feel like you should do one more thing on the list.

But it feels so good to get out, to wake up a little in this slow down season, to notice the animal tracks and the way the water gurgles under the ice, to work up a sweat breaking trail in the snow.

It feels good to notice the beech tree holding on to its leaves, the pileated woodpecker’s bright red cap, the tightly wrapped rhododendron buds and their promise of spring. It feels good to see that the light is indeed returning.