Last winter, I made an unfortunate error in judgement.
I left our snowshoes in the shed, planning to take them out once it snowed enough to use them regularly.
I didn’t realize that when it finally snowed enough, it would actually snow TOO MUCH and my shed door would be blocked by ice and snow for months.
In fact, I never did get around to snowshoeing last winter. Not even once. And that was annoying.
Annoying enough that I actually made a solid plan this past fall so it wouldn’t happen again. This year, when I put the patio furniture in the shed for the winter, I took my snowshoes out and stored them in my basement.*
Last week, as I was walking Khalee down the snow-covered sidewalk and distracting her from attempting to detour onto the walking trails near our house, I realized that I was missing an opportunity.
If I took out my snowshoes, I could let Khalee bound around in the snow on the path while I sauntered over the top of it without sinking up to my shins.
Now our afternoon walks are mini-adventures for the two of us. (Something Sam and Cheddar and friends clearly know all about!) Snowshoeing on a snowy path with trees on one side and a river on the other is much more relaxing than walking on a snow-smudged sidewalk with a dirty bank of snow on one side and the road on the other.
And yes, there are a few challenges involved in the process. For example, Khalee is not a fan of the fact that I have to go out first and put on my snowshoes before letting her outside and she gets a bit worked up about that. And it is tricky to manage a bounding dog on a leash while trying to walk on snowshoes. And then there is the maneuvering involved in trying to ‘stoop and scoop’ while wearing snowshoes and being connected to a dog whose business at this location is complete and who is ready to move quickly away to the next adventure.
But, even with those challenges, it’s still a lot of fun and it feels a bit more cardio-y than our usual walks.
I’m really glad that I had the foresight to do that little bit of planning back in the fall.
*This kind of planning may not seem like a big deal to the neurotypical but the capacity to think ahead like this has never come naturally to me, especially about stuff that is just for fun. Just another way that my medication has made a positive difference for me.
I’m 48, I have a phenomenal seven-year-old girl, I’m a Western science student, and my boyfriend of 2 years dumped me via email in October. The day after Christmas he tagged me in a Facebook post stating that he hoped I got coal for Christmas, quickly followed by a post announcing his new relationship (complete with loved up pics).
What did I do, you ask!?
Did I send a poisonous rebuttal? Cry in my ice-cream bucket? Call my girlfriends and formulate a plan to photo shop hearts around a pic of me and my super cute 38-year-old guy friend – who has a crush on me – and post it on my Facebook page? Nope. None of the above.
I threw on some lipstick, packed a light lunch, a big bottle of water, my iPhone, and… my snowshoes. My German Shepherd cross, Kyah, was down for the adventure so we dropped my girl off at her dad’s house, and drove to FanshaweConservation Area. It is there in the wilderness, trekking the 21k loop around the lake that I always find me. My independence. My strength. My love for myself. And I lose the marionette strings that those who hurt me have attempted to control me with – including social media passive aggressive shots.
The first 5 km found Kyah and I taking selfies amongst the many snowy footprints of other hikers. The scenery was a massive contrast to urban London, and the sun painted the snow silver. I was still frustrated but felt the anger begin to drift into apathy.
The second 5 km saw my spirits lift considerably. I saw far less signs of human life along our path which made me realize that not many people can walk this far. I am one of the elite winter hikers. I shout out, “I am woman”. My best friends are my strength and my loyal canine. Hear us roar.
When I reached the 10 km mark (which means I continue the 11 km to my car, or turn around and trek 10 km back to my car) I had been hiking for 2.5 hours. I was committed either way. I thanked my fitness level, the mental endurance I learned from 10 years of adventure racing, and the fact that emotional pain drove me to this awesome place of a natural endorphin high. I found myself singing “Let It Go” as I trekked amongst a long corridor of evergreens. I was the Snow Queen of the Fanshawe forest.
The third 5 km discovered the power within me. I found no prints in the snow, was forced to load myself onto my snowshoes, and my dog lead the way with her keen sense of smell. She guided me through the woods sniffing out the trail with her 300 million olfactory receptors. She became my compass as well as my social support. My strength was waning but my spirits were jubilant. “You’ll never see me cry… the cold never bothered me anyway.”
Sadly, everything but my strength fell apart after that. My water bottle was plugged with ice, my phone died, my dog began to limp from the ice between her toes, my snack was a cold solid rock (I totally forgot that everything outside freezes at -15 – and I am outside), and I was still 5 km from my car. I began to think.
Remember what happens when you work out? You tear your muscles, just a tiny bit, all over and this is what makes them stronger. Your tiny muscle fiber tears heal, and you get larger muscles. So, when you heal – you are stronger. So maybe in order for us to become emotionally stronger, we have to hurt a tiny bit all over. So maybe we need to think of emotional pain as the post-workout-aches, take an ibuprofen, and in a few days we will actually will be stronger, look fitter, be healthier, and be a better version of ourselves.
As I was thinking, I cut off the trail opting to take a country highway back to my car. I didn’t want to die in the woods as darkness was quickly approaching and my time in the cold was nearly up. A silver Audi pulled up alongside my popsicle self and that of my icicle dog. The man and his fiancé that I had spoken with an hour earlier in the woods recognized Kyah and I and recalled that I had told them where our car was. He jumped out and told me that I was a million miles away from my car. He helped me with my backpack, threw it in the trunk, and like a big brother, escorted me to the front seat of their toasty vehicle. We are all Facebook friends now. He has since told me that his motto is “leave no hiker behind”. Wow. There are amazingly helpful and unselfish men out there. My faith has been greatly restored by this one.
Kyah and I gratefully welcomed the warm drive back to our car. She was curled up on my lap licking her paws as the angel-couple and I chatted about our hikes.
Sure, I didn’t do the whole 21k trek, and I didn’t do it all alone. And yes, the powers-that-be had to send me help when I needed it. But guess what? I’m smiling. I made new friends. I’m healthier. I’m leaner. And I have a great story to tell. All because I channeled a bit of emotional pain and used it to fuel adventure, kick-start fitness, and promote a healed mind.
Get out there and tear some muscles.
Wendy is currently a student at Western University and studies Biology and Psychology. Her passion is ecology, animals, and outdoor fitness. Summers are spent mountain biking, paddling, backcountry camping, and hiking. Winters are spent snowshoeing and bird watching. Wendy has a seven-year-old daughter who helps keep her young and fit at 48.