It was seven degrees this morning and originally I was going to leave Raymond at home and go to the gym instead of going for a walk. It’s a block and a half to the gym, and warm in there, while walking the mile and back to the dog park was going to be cold. But when I stepped outside and realized the wind wasn’t blowing, I went back in to suit up.
My winter dog-walking outfit must be a sight. When Patrick died, I kept his really really nice North Face jacket, which is, understandably quite large on me. This is the genius of the jacket. It’s huge. It’s like wearing a bubble. With fleecy tights underneath my ski pants, and my vintage Patagonia reverse-fleece jacket under the ginormous coat, and a hat, and the hood pulled up over the hat, and my thick ragg wool mittens, I’m actually quite toasty in there. I must look like a troll since I am a short person wearing a lot of clothes, some of which is very large — and frankly I feel like a little kid in a snowsuit (remember that immobilized feeling?). But it works, and so I made a deal with Ray this morning — if the wind isn’t blowing, we’ll still walk. If the wind is blowing all bets are off because even bundled up I hate it when my face freezes.
So off we went this morning in the near-dark. Me in my pile o’clothing, and him skipping along like the animal he is. It was a beautiful morning — sunny and clear and sparkly snow and the Crazy Mountains all pink in the sunrise. Totally worth bundling up for — and it’s such a relief to be old enough to not care that I look goofy. Forty minutes outside in the fresh air looking at the sights and saying hi to my dog park friends. It’s the best part of my weekdays.
So funny. I hate to work out indoors – treadmills bore me to tears – and so face the layering challenge as it gets colder in Mpls. Also, to walk anywhere I have to cross the Mississippi, which funnels icy wind down from the Arctic. So my suiting up goes something like: wicking shirt, tights, fleece, thick socks, overpants, goretex, face goop, neck funnel, hat, sunglasses, hood of goretex, gloves. you can see about an inch of skin at each temple. i sent a pic to my agent, she had no idea it was me.
Any chance of posting some winter picks from your area for those of us in the warmer climates. I have reached that age where I would love to live somewhere that has a real winter but am smart enough to know my body couldn’t do it anymore. I can only live vicariously through you guys up there
It sounds like it must be beautiful.
Well, if C. doesn’t mind:
the encroaching winter on my island is here: http://is.gd/amUS
And one day last winter is here: http://is.gd/amVo
It is beautiful, but it’s punishing. I moved here after 10 years in the South and was completely out of training for cold. This is my third winter and I am not yet adapted – it’s 13 degrees right now (in the sun).
Oh dear oh my…I just physically shivered at the mere mention of the mere thought of Dead Rock winds at 7 degrees. As fate would have it I think I ended up in the windiest part of Seattle, but still nothing like that awful mind bending wind there. Have you ever read Tim Cahill? He has a great story about Dead Rock winds, I think it is “Jaguars Ripped My Flesh”. Random thought, glad you got to take your walk…