It Descends

I opened the door and braced myself. I had forgotten from last spring to now what I was going to be facing. The cold legs and the frosted glasses. The forehead freeze and the drippy nose. I guess it’s like having a baby — your mind and body let it go so that you can somehow embrace the idea of a second baby. Not that I’m referring to pregnancy and myself in the same sentence but rather just the concept of forgetting something you would rather not remember. Like walking in the pitch black in the winter with the wind in your face and the flashlight barely illuminating the trail.

I met someone today who walks 10 km every day and I thought that would be fabulous but somehow on a cold winter’s night it doesn’t seem all that appealing. It’s always dark by the time we get home on weekdays from November to February so the dogs and I only do our .76 km loop. I make a point of getting in a Sunday afternoon long walk in the sunshine and occasionally even do a run on Saturday am.

But for now I try to forget daily how cold the wind can make life on the prairie and always live hopeful that tomorrow the sun will shine and it will be perfect walking weather. I cope with the short days by trying to get in a lunch break in the sun and by taking a daily dose of Vitamin D.

The dark of the night

Has invaded my day

Winter is coming

I walk in the dark

One month till days are longer 

Bring on the solstice

Two dogs and two cats

Had their flashlight walk tonight

Along a thin path

Bernie