School was called off today, so I figured it was my day to see if my snowshoes still work. The snow has been blowing around since Tuesday afternoon. It’s hard to say how much has accumulated in the last couple days because the wind keeps shifting it to different spots. Probably at least 3 inches here, but I’m sure the towns over the ridge got more -- they usually do.
But it was enough for me to go for my long awaited snowshoe. On my trek to the lighthouse, while I was still on the plowed gravel road wearing those metal-framed apparatuses over my boots, I began to sweat. I wasn’t nervous. I was heating up and had hardly gone 100 yards! Wooh! I thought, this showshoeing business sure takes some getting used to. I remembered the end of last winter when I was a snowshoeing champ. I would drag people out farther than they really wanted to go just because I loved it so much.
And now I was not even one tenth of the way through my day’s journey, and I felt beat. I had to remind myself why I loved snowshoeing, ponder life and think of new writing ideas while I was trudging along, so it wouldn’t seem so rough. And I wasn’t even in the powder yet!
As I broke through past the plowed road, into the fresh snow, I was reminded how hard it really was. This walk to the lighthouse, which seems so effortless in the summer as I prance down in tennis shoes and shorts, becomes a chore when I plow through it in three layers of clothing and boots. But underneath those few curse words I may have muttered, I was grateful for it. Winter is here, and I’m going to become stronger as I battle the snow and the elements.
The first few times will be drudgery, but I’ll sure be glad when the spring comes, and I can fly up hills on my feet and bike. Cheers to winter!